


A Place of Worship and Adoration

by blueelvewithwings



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Aborted Scene, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Len, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cages, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dehumanization, Demisexual Barry, Desparation Play, Dom!Barry, Domdrop, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Getting Together, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Humiliation/Desparation, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Kink Negotiation, Kneeling, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Married Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Massage, Mayor Leonard Snart, Miscommunication, Multi, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Punishment, Relationship Discussions, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safeword Use, Spanking, Sub!Len, Subdrop, Subspace, Suspension, Temperature Play, Vanilla!Mick, Watersports, Wax Play, Weighted Blanket, Writer Mick Rory, nonsexual kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/pseuds/blueelvewithwings
Summary: Leonard Rory, Mayor of Central City, happily spends his Saturday afternoons submitting to his Dom, Barry, and relishes in living out his kinky side. He knows that Barry wants more between them than their kink sessions, and he finds himself falling for Barry as well. There’s only one problem: While Mick, Len’s husband, is perfectly aware and approving of him seeing Barry . . .  Barry has no idea that Mick even exists.The fic is completed, I will post new chapters twice a week.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Barry Allen/Mick Rory, Barry Allen/Mick Rory/Leonard Snart, Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 46
Kudos: 107





	1. Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SophiaCatherine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaCatherine/gifts).



> HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS, MY DEAR SOPH!!  
> I promised this to you last year for your birthday, and then I couldn't get it done in time, and now that I've stewed on the idea, it grew into a 50k monster... aka The Fic Monster. Here it finally is, I hope you will enjoy it!
> 
> Also, I wish to express the biggest thank you to [eutuxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eutuxia/pseuds/eutuxia) for being an amazing beta, letting me ramble on about this fic and having the patience to discuss the proper capitalization in "cookies with Earl Grey tea and orange in them" for about two hours <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry needs to relax for a while. Len is just there to help him.

“Undress.”

Len swallowed but obediently started to take off his clothes. It was always the same when he came to Barry for a session. Step into the hallway, turn off his phone and put it aside along with his keys and wallet, then undress and put his clothes on the hallway chair, neatly folded. Only then was he allowed to kneel on the little mat his Master provided him with, either in front of the living room door or in front of the stairs that would lead down to the basement and the playroom.

Today, the mat was in front of the living room door. Once naked, Len walked up to it, then sank down on his knees as gracefully as he could and bowed down low until his forehead was nearly touching the cold tiles, so he could kiss his Master’s shoes in greeting and express his gratitude for being allowed to serve him.

“Good boy,” Master praised him, waiting for Len to sit back again before petting his head. “Present.”

Immediately, Len tilted his head back, placing his hands in his lap and folding them there. He closed his eyes, knowing that he was not allowed to make eye contact with his Master unless prompted to do so. Just moments later, he felt the worn leather against his throat, felt his breathing restrict slightly as Barry closed the buckle on  his  collar and tested the fit of it, and he knew there was a soft smile on his face as he felt the familiar weight settle around his neck, marking him as his Master’s property and degrading him down to a slave and a pet, a toy for his Master to play with, taking away all of his free will. Once Master gave a pat to his cheek as a sign that he was done, Len opened his eyes again, obediently lowering them to the floor.

Barry’s hand was on the handle of the living room door, a sure sign that their scene was about to start.

“Ready?” Barry asked him, and Len nodded his assent.

“Good. Tell me your safeword.”

“Lettuce, Master,” Len told him, and his Master nodded in return.

“Very good. Now, tonight you are not to speak unless I tell you to. I am expecting an important phone call still, but that is none of your concern. When I open the door, you’ll crawl in and find the pillow I’ve put down for you, and you will kneel there, facing the armchair.”

And with that, the door opened. Len dropped down on all fours, moving easily now after a year of being Master’s and being trained as his Master’s plaything. He spotted the pillow straight away and made a beeline for it, kneeling on it with his face turned towards the armchair, just as instructed.

Instead of sitting down on said armchair, Master sat down on the couch to Len’s right and picked up a dark piece of cloth.

“You don’t need your eyes tonight,” he told Len, and that was all the warning he got before the blindfold was tied around his head, leaving him in complete darkness.

“On all fours,” came the command, so Len leaned forward until his hands touched the ground. He had barely arrived at his position before he felt the edges of Master’s shoes dig into his back as his feet came to rest on the small of his back.

A footstool it was, then.

“Don’t disturb me, and don’t move.”

Len swallowed and nodded, even though he knew that his assent was not required here. Master told him what to do, and he was a good boy, so he would do it.

Master loved tying Len up, but sometimes he also loved letting him be completely free and watch him restrain himself, hold himself still in a specific position simply because Master said so and because Len was Master’s, so he’d obey him. And it was true, Len would do anything for his Master, do anything he commanded because he belonged to him and his sole wish was to please his Master, to make him happy in any way that he could. And tonight, his Master wished him to be his footrest and to keep still, so that was what Len did.

He could hear the TV being turned on, and soon enough, chattering from a TV series he couldn’t identify filled the room. Master shifted a little, digging his heels deeper into Len’s back. There was some crinkling, as if a bag of snacks was being torn open, and sure enough, eating noises followed soon after. By the sound of it, Master was eating some kind of crisps.

Len’s cheeks flushed then, realising that really, he was just a footstool now, not anything worth the tiniest bit of attention. He was so low now that Master did not even wish to receive his services or have him tied up and looking pretty. No, today, he was just an added convenience for his Master’s pleasure, ensuring that his comfort was heightened by allowing him to prop up his feet. But he was below Master’s notice, no conversation partner, not even a pet that one might coo at or scold for misbehaving. No, he was no one now, nothing worth taking note of. He bit his lip, trying to force down the flush of humiliation that was coursing through him, but still, he held himself still, obeying his Master’s orders. That was what he was here for, after all, his sole purpose.

Master did get a call a little while later, and Len could hear him chat about his day at work, recounting some experiments that meant nothing to Len, and describing some prank at the precinct that had gone wrong. It might be a coworker on the other end of the line, Len supposed, or maybe a friend. Normally, Master would put his phone away along with Len’s, concentrating on just their scene while they were at it, but today, Master didn’t deem Len worthy of getting any attention at all, so he had no reason to put his phone aside and ignore his friends and family for a while.

And Len knew why it was this way now; he just knew it. Last week, he’d been Master’s slave, and upon serving him dinner, he’d spilled sauce down Master’s pristine white shirt.

He’d been made to kneel in the corner then, his bare knees digging into grains of rice that Master had seen fit to toss to the ground before Len knelt down. Len always tried to accept his punishments gracefully, and to truly thank his Master from the bottom of his heart for setting him right again. Master knew best, after all, and Master was always right. Master owned Len, after all, so of course he was right. But last week, after Master had ignored Len for hours before letting him up again and resuming their play, his knees had hurt so much from the rice, and he’d been so tired and he’d felt so humiliated that he’d spoken up, had accused his Master — his Master, whose word was law — of not paying him enough attention, of neglecting him and his needs. Master had informed him that there was no such thing as a minimal amount of attention that a slave deserved, and Len had found himself right back in the corner, kneeling on the rice again while Master’s belt flew down on his ass again and again and turned it red and sore.

He’d thought he’d been forgiven after that, but now he thought that maybe this was still part of this lesson, that by dismissing him so easily and degrading him to something not worth any interest, Master was proving to him that any attention Master would give him was a privilege, something to be grateful for, and nothing to ever take for granted. Len swore to himself to learn his lesson well, and to never demand his Master’s attention again. On the contrary, he would show his Master utmost gratefulness the next time he would grace him with attention and allowed him to be anything more than the worthless troublemaker that he was.

Master laughed at something that was on television, and Len felt his face flush all over again. It was humiliating, to be nothing at all, like this, to not be a person, a presence worth respecting. It was like Master was alone in the room, and Len was . . . nothing, really. Nothing worthy of any attention for sure. And slowly, Len came to realise that this was always how it was. Len was never worthy of Master’s attention, but Master chose to give it to him anyway. He was such a lucky sub, to have such a caring Master who gave him attention and played with him, who sometimes would even let Len choose how he wished to serve his Master that day.

Len vowed to express this to Master later, when hopefully he would be allowed to worship him again, to show him how devoted he was to him, and how much he knew that he was Master’s and Master’s alone.

His arms were starting to shake a bit, and his lower legs had gone numb from the position he was holding for his Master, but that was not something he wasn’t used to. Master often had him kneel, and Len always rejoiced in it. There was just something about it, something about lowering himself to the ground in supplication, about making himself vulnerable to whatever Master was going to do with him, something about willingly giving up any pretense of equality and putting himself below his Master, where he belonged. Len loved kneeling for his Master. He’d always found it weird how casually some people could kneel, how men went to their knees to give someone else a blowjob but didn’t really appreciate what they were doing and the implications it held. Len had never been a fan of doing that. He’d always wanted to save it and only kneel for someone who was worthy of his obedience and submission. It was a weird thought, really, to find someone worth being worthless for . . . And yet, it made sense to him, somehow. He might be nothing to Master at the moment, not worth wasting a single thought on, and yet, he knew that Master treasured him as something special, that he valued Len’s submission beyond anything. Len would need to thank him for that, too, and show his Master how much it meant to Len that he went through the trouble of accepting Len’s submission and his services to Master.

Len had no idea how much time had passed, but he was sure he’d heard the news speaker talk at least two different times before Master sat up and pulled his feet away from Len’s back, making Len hold back a groan at the relief from so much pressure. But of course, this didn’t mean that Len was allowed to move, so he held himself still and didn’t move even as Master got up to stretch himself. No matter how much his arms were shaking by now, he was going to be a good boy, and only Master could decide when he was allowed to move.

Luckily, Master was lenient today, and a short while later, Len could feel Master’s foot tapping his thigh, signaling him to move. Immediately, Len turned around as fast as his sore, aching muscles would allow him to, and he faced Master’s legs before leaning down, resting his forehead on the floor before Master in supplication.

“There, that’s a good boy,” Master praised him, and he even bent down to run a hand over Len’s shorn head. Len sighed happily but didn’t move, not wanting Master to think he was a greedy thing that demanded attention again.

“You’re so good for me tonight,” Master told him, and Len couldn’t hold back a happy keen at that praise. He always loved it when Master would bestow praise upon him, when he’d take his time to let Len know that his devotion was appreciated.

Master sat back down on the sofa after that and waved Len over to come and kneel next to him before pulling Len’s head into his lap so he could start petting it.

He didn’t speak for a while, and Len let himself relax, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Master’s hands in his hair, stroking over his head. He felt like a toy for his Master, something to soothe his twitchy fingers and his overactive mind, but it wasn’t humiliating like it had been before. He still wasn’t worthy of Master’s attention, but Master still granted him affection and allowed him to be close to him, allowed him to serve him like this. He kept his breathing even and calm, even though his lungs ached sometimes from how he wanted to sigh or let his breath hitch when Master’s hands found a spot where the petting felt particularly nice.

“How is your back?” Master asked him after a while, and Len opened his eyes at the sound of his voice.

“Fine, Master,” he replied, his voice sounding scratchy from disuse and from how relaxed he was.

“It’s not hurting?” Master prodded, and Len thought about it for a while before replying. It wouldn’t do to lie to Master, after all. His back was aching, yes, and it felt a bit sore from where Master had rested his feet on it for a long time, but it wasn’t actively hurting. So he minutely shook his head, careful not to disturb Master’s hand in his hair.

“Not hurting, Master.”

“Good.” Master gently pushed his head back then and grabbed his chin, tilting it up in a clear demand to look at him. So Len obeyed and looked up into Master’s eyes, meeting them with some trepidation. But Master was smiling, so he relaxed again and simply waited for what Master had in store for him.

“I want you to know that I forgive you for your behaviour last week. I hope you learned your lesson from it, and it will stay a one-time incident.” Master pressed a little kiss on his forehead and then let go of his chin, leaving Len to bend down in supplication and press his own lips against Master’s shoes.

“Thank you, Master,” he whispered, feeling tears of gratitude well up in him. “Thank you for allowing me to serve you and for teaching me to be better. Thank you for punishing me and setting me right, Master.” Master let him pour out his gratitude for a while but didn’t reply. He did, however, bend down and rest a hand on Len’s shoulder for a moment, so Len thought that maybe Master appreciated it.

Master tapped his head twice then, the signal for him to sit up, and so of course, Len did.

“Len,” Master started, putting both hands on Len’s cheek. He always did so when he was breaking character for a moment to check in, so Len’s eyes immediately snapped to Barry’s. For check-ins, he was supposed to look at Barry, after all.

“Yes, sir?”

“I have this new rope that I want to try out on you, but I’m not sure how your joints are doing. Colour?”

New rope . . . that sounded exciting, and Len loved to be tied up by his Master! He loved it when Master would tie him up and then play with him for however long he pleased. Or sometimes he would tie him up and then ignore him, or he would tie him up and then proceed to watch a movie with him as if nothing was up. Len loved the feeling of rope on his skin, the feeling of being held tight and safely, and the feeling of being his Master’s and his Master’s alone.

But tonight . . . tonight, he wasn’t sure if his back and shoulders and his wrists would be able to take more, and he was so relaxed now after having Master’s hands in his hair for so long . . . but he also wanted to please Master, and Master clearly wanted to go on.

“I . . . yellow, Sir?” he ventured and was met with Master’s soft, gentle smile and a shake of the head.

“No rope tonight, then. Thank you for telling me. And don’t you worry, I’ll save it for another occasion.”

Len nodded at that and dropped his eyes again when Master’s hands left his face. In the end, it was Master’s decision whether he wanted to go on or not, after all.

Master went back to stroking his hair for a bit, and then sat back on the sofa and patted the space beside him.

“You’re such a good boy, Len, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

Len sighed as he heard the phrase that always meant the end of a scene and turned his head up to smile at Barry.

“I’m very lucky that you will have me,” he replied, and then carefully pushed himself up onto the couch. Barry’s hands were on his shoulders to help him up, and within moments he was settled next to Barry, leaning against him.

“Alright?” Barry asked him, and Len let out a happy sigh as he felt his fingers in his hair again.

“Yeah . . . feel pretty relaxed now.”

Barry chuckled at that and gave a few playful taps to his temple. “Relaxed, huh? Not sure that was the goal, but hey, if that’s what’s happening . . .” He leaned away from Len for a moment, and when he moved back again, he held a bowl of crisps and nuts in his hands, along with some pretzel sticks.

“Hungry?” he asked, and Len knew better than to refuse his aftercare food, so he took a handful of nuts and started munching away on them.

“I’ll get you something to drink, too. What do you want?” Barry asked him, and Len had to hold back a pout as he stood up. He always loved snuggling with Barry afterwards.

“‘You got some tea?” he asked instead, and Barry nodded. Of course he had tea. After the first few times he’d asked for it and Barry didn’t have any, he’d started keeping some around just for Len. Len really, really was a lucky man for having Barry as his Dom.

A few minutes later, they were settled in again, Len with a mug of steaming tea in his hands this time.

“You alright?” He asked, and Len smiled at him with a nod. “Yeah. I loved it when you let me just kneel there and stroked my hair . . . that was so relaxing.”

“Well, you were so good for me before, so I thought I could reward you with that,” Barry smiled, and Len felt his heart melt a little. Barry just had such a gorgeously sweet smile, it should be illegal.

“You wanna watch a movie or something?” Barry suggested after they’d just stared at each other for a moment, and Len smiled bashfully and looked down into his tea.

“I should be getting home after this,” he murmured, and pointedly didn’t look at Barry so he didn’t have to see that disappointed expression on his face. He knew that Barry wanted him to stay, but really . . . he just couldn’t. Not with Mick at home, waiting for him.

“You know . . . work tomorrow and stuff.” He was grateful that Barry didn’t point out to him that it was early still, and that tomorrow was Sunday. Well, as the mayor of Central City, working on a Sunday wouldn’t even be that far off, he did it often enough. But even worse, he couldn’t let Barry think . . . he couldn’t let him think that there was more.

“Sure,” Barry gave in, just as easily as always, leaving Len with a little lump in his stomach at the sadness in his voice.

“But I’ll see you again next Saturday?”

“Sure, same time as always, Barry.”

He leaned against Barry’s shoulder again as he sipped his tea, and talked about nothing of consequence with Barry for the next half hour before he went back out into the hallway and put his clothes back on, put his keys and his wallet in his pocket, and turned his phone back on. Immediately, it pinged with a hundred different notifications, and Len immediately felt some of the strain that Barry always managed to take away begin to return.

He couldn’t wait for next Saturday.


	2. Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len is late for a session with Barry. Barry does not approve...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanking time!!

The next Saturday found Len racing through Central City, cursing the bosses of influential companies who needed to have meetings on weekends and didn’t heed him when he said that he still had appointments to meet after theirs. He was half an hour late already, and he knew Barry would be disappointed. He _hated_ disappointing Barry. And he knew he’d be able to explain it, that he wasn’t late on purpose, but that wouldn’t matter. Nothing he said would matter, apart from the fact that he’d been late.

Cursing, he stopped in front of Barry’s door and took a moment to adjust his clothes so he’d at least look semi-presentable. Not that it would last long anyway, but for the moment, he wanted his clothes in place like a shield against the frown he knew Barry would fix on him.

And just as predicted, after he’d rung the bell, the door swung open to reveal a less than pleased looking Barry.

“It is three-thirty in the afternoon, Len,” Barry informed him coolly, and Len winced, looking down at his feet.

“I know. I’m sorry . . . I got held up,” he explained, even though he knew it was pointless.

“You are not to be late to our appointments,” Barry told him simply, then stepped aside and held the door open. “Proceed.”

Len stepped inside then and took out his phone, turning it off and ignoring the call that was just coming in from the guy he’d just had a meeting with. He continued with his wallet and his keys as usual, then stepped back to take off his coat. He barely noticed how much his hands were shaking until Barry stepped forward and caught them, holding them between his own and halting Len’s undressing.

“Colour?” he asked him, peering into Len’s eyes as if they held the answer to all the questions of the universe.

“Green, Sir,” Len replied, trying to get his hands under control so they wouldn’t shake anymore when Barry let go of them. Barry didn’t seem to buy into it, though, and continued to frown at Len.

“Are you sure? You don’t look well. We could sit down first and make sure you've calmed down before we start?”” And somehow, that made it even worse, that Barry could be so caring and patient with him even when he’d fucked up and deserved nothing but his punishment, so that his Master may eventually forgive him.

“I . . . no, please, Sir,” he murmured, unsure how to phrase his thoughts, but he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, knowing that he needed to explain himself to Barry if he didn’t want to end up in the kitchen with a mug of tea and a concerned Barry hovering over him for the next hour.

“I . . . I need it, please? To give up control. I’m sorry I disappointed you, Sir.”

Barry studied him for a moment longer, then nodded and stepped back. “Okay. Green it is. Let me know if that changes. And continue undressing.”

Len nodded and eagerly hung his coat up on the hook on the wall before taking off his suit jacket, vest, shirt, and so on. Soon, he was standing naked in front of Barry, just as it should be, and went down on his knees with his forehead pressed to the floor.

“Please, Master. May I ask for punishment for my infraction?”

“Mm, I see you learned some lessons after all. Come on. Stand and walk down into the basement. I will give you what you deserve.”

Len bit back a relieved sigh and stood, careful not to make eye contact with his Master, and walked down into the basement into the playroom, where he knelt in the middle of the room without looking around, waiting for further instructions. It was not his place to try to figure out how he would be punished, after all. That was Master’s prerogative.

“We almost forgot something there,” Master said, his feet so close that they were touching Len’s knees, and Len could see that his hands were holding his collar.

His collar!

Without even waiting for Master’s command, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, allowing Master to fasten the collar around his throat. Immediately, something in him settled, and some of the pressure under his skin disappeared. He was Master’s now, and he only had to obey Master. His sole responsibility was making Master happy, and that was all that he lived for now.

“Thank you, Master,” he whispered and placed the gentlest of kisses on Master’s knuckles as they retreated.

Master chuckled and tapped his cheek. “Up and over the caning horse, pet. You still need a punishment, after all.”

Len sighed, but obediently got up and went over to the wood contraption that was covered in smooth leather. He’d had some fun spankings on this one, and also some very nasty punishments, so he approached it with some trepidation, knowing which one he was in for today.

“Come on, no stalling. You know that will just up the number of your strikes,” Master reminded him, effortlessly spurring Len into action like that, making him bend over the horse and putting his wrists into the cuffs so Master could fasten them. But Master shook his head and tapped Len’s wrists instead. “No cuffs. I want you to hold yourself in place for me.”

Len nodded even as he had to swallow around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Not yet, you’re not. But I’ll make sure you’ll be a very sorry boy soon, don’t you worry.”

Len wanted to know what he would be spanked with, which implement he’d earned tonight, but he didn’t dare to ask. Sometimes Master didn’t like him asking questions, and then he might get himself a longer punishment. And really, it didn’t matter. It was Master’s decision anyway, and he would share that information with Len if he felt like Len deserved to know. So all he did was relax into position and try to adjust so his back wouldn’t be screaming from his position by the end of this.

Master, meanwhile, was standing at the shelf that held all his implements to choose one of them. He carried it back towards Len, hidden behind his back so he couldn’t see what would be gracing his behind that night. But if Master decided he didn’t deserve to know, then he didn’t deserve to know.

Master took a stand behind him, resting his hand on Len’s backside and giving it a few experimental taps with his hand. “Tell me your safeword,” he commanded, and Len could only swallow in response before he found his voice.

“Lettuce, Master.”

“Good. Now, one strike for each minute you were late.” Len nodded his acceptance, even though it was less than needed. His Master had decided on his punishment, so Len would bear it.

Thirty strikes were not that many, so he knew that Master would use an implement that would really hurt even with a limited number of strikes. He swallowed and bowed his head, pushing his hips up so they would be at a better angle for Master to strike him. He had earned this, after all, so he wouldn’t try to get away from it. He wanted Master to forgive him, wanted to be able to forgive himself after this.

“Count them out. Thirty-two strikes.” Len sighed at Master’s decision to make every minute count and give him two extra strikes, but of course, he would never dare to argue with Master about a punishment.

“Yes, Master. Thank you for setting me right again,” he agreed and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

He had been waiting for it, and yet the first jolt took him by surprise, making him gasp as pain bloomed across his ass before his brain had even registered that something was hitting him. It was firm and hard, but just bendable enough to make the impact even more painful with the vibrations running through the implement. The pain wasn’t sharp enough to be a cane, though, and Master was hitting too harshly for that.

“One, Master. Thank you so much,” he gasped out, trying to catch his breath before the next strike hit. But of course, Master was not that merciful tonight, and the second strike hit him before he could brace himself for it.

“Two, Master. Thank you so much,” he breathed, blinking back tears that were already forming in his eyes. Two strikes in and he was on the brink of tears already . . . he knew this would not be a fun punishment. Master must truly be upset with him.

“I’m sorr—” The next strike cut him off, driving him against the caning horse and pushing all the breath out of him.

“Only talk to count or when you’re asked to speak,” Master admonished, and Len nodded shakily.

“Three, Master. Thank you.”

The fourth strike hit a bit below the others, closer to the tender spot where backside met thigh, and Len cringed, his hands flinching as he instinctively tried to reach behind himself to protect his backside.

“Four, Master. Thank you.”

Master set a rhythm after that, spacing his strikes apart so that Len had time to thank him for each one that he counted out, but not enough to catch his breath between the strikes. It felt like Master was punishing him with some sort of thin paddle now—or a thick cane—and Len couldn’t pin it down. He was holding on tightly to the caning horse, flinching each time that Master hit him and doing his best to always stay on track with the counting, taking care to thank his Master for each and every strike. His Master was so kind to take time out of his day to make sure that Len was punished even when he had already made his Master wait for his arrival. He had been such a bad pet . . . no Master should ever have to wait for their sub, their sub should always be there for them when they were needed, always be at their Master’s beck and call, and never the other way around.

Len sobbed with strike number twelve and couldn’t keep his hands from flying backwards and protectively holding his backside. Immediately, he ripped his hands away again, afraid that Master had already started the next strike and would be unable to stop it before it fell on Len’s fingers.

“Twe-twelve, Master. Thank . . . you so much.”

But the next strike never fell, and instead, he felt Master’s warm, gentle hand on his ass.

“You may speak to ask for your hands to be bound, if you need it,” Master told him, and Len sobbed as he nodded. Master was so kind, taking care of him even while he was punishing him and making sure that Len would not hurt his fingers!

“Is that a nod for ‘yes, understood’ or a nod for ‘yes, bind my hands’?” Master asked him, suddenly appearing in front of Len and lifting his face, making him lock eyes with his Master.

His Master was so beautiful, his stunning eyes looking straight into Len’s . . . 

“Nod for understanding, Master,” Len whispered, determined now to show Master that he could be a good boy and keep his hands to himself, where they belonged. He gripped tighter onto the caning horse and vowed to himself not to let go again.

Master stepped back behind him then, after looking at Len’s face for a while and then nodding, and he could hear him pick the implement back up. Likely a ruler, Len realised. That was what a ruler tended to feel like.

And then the spanking resumed. He flinched as soon as the next strike hit but bit back a cry so he could count out the next strike.

“Thirteen, thank you, Master.”

Number fourteen took his breath away, making him choke on his own sob, but he still managed to stammer out a number for Master. He was so good, putting Len back in his place, showing Len how to be a good boy again, teaching him a lesson. And even though Len had been so bad, he was still so caring, still took his time and made sure Len was doing okay even though Len was the bad one who had come late to their playtime. He should apologize to Master again later and thank him for punishing him and promise him that he’d do better. He could do better for Master. Master was so important and so patient with him . . . Len needed to be a better boy for him so Master wouldn’t get bored of him . . . Master was so perfect, after all, and Len was just a silly sub who couldn’t even be on time for his sessions with Master.

“Twenty-one, Master,” he sobbed, crying openly and consistently now, and he barely even noticed how much his hands hurt from clinging to the caning horse to make sure he wouldn’t cover his ass with them again. He could be a good boy for Master, he wanted to show him that he could! He wanted to be his very best for Master, to make him proud, to make him happy that Len was his sub . . . He knew he was slipping, that his mind didn’t register the numbers anymore that his mouth was counting out, but it also didn’t really matter. It didn’t matter because Master would give him as many swats as he deserved, and he would take care of Len because Master was like that—caring even when Len had messed up, and always making sure to not go over Len’s limits, even when Len was in no state to enforce them anymore . . . Len trusted Master. He knew he would take care of him and punish him and then he’d make him into Master’s good boy again, and Len would always give his best to be Master’s good boy . . . And he would try so much harder again now, he didn’t want to mess up again . . . he wanted to be Master’s good boy, wanted to be so good for him. He wanted Master to be proud of him, to be happy with him, to keep him, to hold him, to cuddle him, to kiss him, to snuggle with him . . . 

When Len slowly came back to reality, he found himself lying on Master’s sofa, wrapped up in warm blankets and Master’s strong arms. He blinked his eyes open, allowing himself a tiny smile as he came face to face with the green fabric of the couch’s backrest.

“Hey, you with me again?” Master’s gentle voice came floating from behind him, and then there was Master’s hand, gently stroking over his scalp like he always did when Len had gotten so deep into subspace that he was totally gone from the world for a while. He’d always face Len away from him, so he wouldn’t be overwhelmed when he came to, and could choose for himself when he was ready to turn around and face Master, but he’d always be there, laying behind him, stroking Len’s hair and speaking to him in that gentle voice.

Len took a few more breaths without replying, and then carefully maneuvered himself around so he could face his Master.

“There you are,” Barry smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the sides with the force of his smile. He was beautiful.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Len murmured and allowed himself to nuzzle into Barry’s hand for a few moments.

“Are you alright?”

His Master was so sweet, always so caring, always checking if Len was doing okay. Len never wanted to lose him.

“Yeah . . . yeah. Thank you for punishing me. And . . . I’m sorry I was late.”

“It’s okay.” Barry chuckled, and then carefully pushed himself up as he heard Len’s croaky voice, so he could reach over and grab a glass of water to hand it to Len.

“What happened, though? You’re not usually this late. Or late at all, really.”

“Ugh.” Len took the glass of water and gratefully drained it in one sip, perched on his elbow so he didn’t need to put pressure on his ass just yet. He shook his head and handed the glass back.

“Some idiot wanting to talk about deals for getting a good factory building in the city. Only he’s a very influential idiot, and their business will be very good for the city so I couldn’t just turn him down and he didn’t want to hear anything about me still having prior engagements that I had to be at by a certain time . . . asshole.”

Barry shook his head as well, then sat next to Len and gently slid himself under Len so his head was resting in Barry’s lap. “How mean. That’s not how you treat any potential business partner; I’m sorry you had to deal with such an idiot.”

“I’m sorry I was too late . . . I know it’s important to be on time.”

“Yeah, you usually are. And don’t worry too much. You know you’re really my good boy. And like this, I had an excuse to use my ruler again. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, but it was never the right time. So don’t worry.”

Len let out a little chuckle, then winced as he moved and his ass reminded him that it had just been spanked with a ruler. “. . . Owie.”

“Want some cream?” Barry asked him, entirely unapologetic of the fact that he’d likely just turned Len’s ass into an interesting landscape of glaring red welts shortly before.

“Yeah . . . yeah, cream would be good,” Len murmured and turned over onto his stomach as Barry got up, pushing the blankets out of the way so Barry would be able to put cream on his ass. Well, after pulling down his underwear, that was. Barry loved letting Len float on the sofa, but he also was very insistent about the fact that no naked asses or genitals were allowed on his couch, so somehow he’d always managed to put Len’s boxers back on him by the time he came to on the sofa. Now, he pushed the back of his underwear down, making sure to keep his front covered. He’d once not heeded Barry’s words and had plopped his naked ass down on the couch, and Barry had been so upset he hadn’t seen him for three weeks afterwards. Len had learned his lesson then.

Barry returned with the cream just a few moments later, and then he crouched next to Len and used those gentle but strong fingers of his to carefully spread the soothing cream on Len’s red ass.

“You did so well though, there,” Barry told him, and Len could hear in his voice that he meant it. “You held on to the caning horse all by yourself, and you stayed so still for me. It’s amazing. I admire your self-control sometimes, to keep yourself still like that . . .”

Len felt himself blush a bit in the face of Barry’s praise, unsure how he should deal with it. “I . . . Thanks,” he murmured, hiding his face in the sofa cushion.

Barry’s well-meaning laugh made his ears blush as well, and Len cursed his skin to all seven hells.

“How are you feeling?” Barry asked him once his ass was sufficiently creamed. “You mentioned at the start that you needed to give up control?”

“Mm . . . feel much more relaxed,” Len murmured and turned to his side so he could look at Barry again. “I needed to get out of my head, so thank you. But I’m . . . what did you have planned for today?”

Barry shook his head and reached for a second glass of water on the side table, taking a sip himself before offering it to Len.

“Remember the red rope I keep wanting to try? I’m starting to think it may be cursed.”

“Hm, that still sounds very intriguing. Next week?”

Barry smiled and nodded, putting the glass back on the side table and then helping Len sit up as he pushed himself up. It hurt, but it also felt good to be sitting again, next to Barry, as an equal. He always needed some time to get out of subspace again, and Barry always made sure to only let him go home when he was feeling alright and like himself again. And somehow little things like this helped, just sitting next to Barry, chatting to him about things that weren’t too important, and letting Barry feed and water him until he deemed it acceptable for Len to leave the house.

As if on cue, he found his hands full of some pastry that looked delicious and homemade and had his mouth watering as soon as he looked at it.

“Oh, you baked again today,” he murmured before he dug in, relishing the sweet taste and flakey texture that filled his mouth.

“Yes, well, I had a date with someone with a sweet tooth this afternoon, so I figured I might as well,” Barry told him, wearing that bashful little smile that he often sported when he watched Len enjoy one of his creations.

Len almost choked on his pastry but managed to not react to the fact that Barry had just blatantly referred to their sessions as a _date_.

Barry, who was cute and patient and sweet and who was such a perfect Master. Barry, who so obviously carried a torch for Len and wanted them to be more than Dom and sub, but who never pushed Len for more. Barry, who always invited Len to stay for dinner and always got sad but never asked why he didn’t stay. Barry, who Len was harbouring more and more feelings for each week. Barry, who Len could see himself falling in love with.

Barry, who had no idea that Len was married.

Len was so fucked.

  
  


***

  
  


“Mick, there’s a problem.”

Mick barely looked up from his dinner but raised an eyebrow. “Is there now?” he asked, but still seemed mainly interested in the steak in front of him more so than any internal crisis Len might be having.

“I think I’m falling for Barry.”

Len just got a grunt in reply, and Mick took on a pensive expression as he chewed his next bite. After a moment, he said, “I know you’re sweet on the kid, Lenny. What’s new?”

Len sighed and dropped his fork on his plate. It was a gorgeous steak dinner that Mick had cooked, but he just couldn’t find his appetite tonight. Somehow, he could still taste the sugary frosting and apple filling from Barry’s pastry, and that didn’t make it better.

“What if I . . . want to . . . more?”

“Very eloquent,” Mick replied, now looking up and focusing properly on Len. At any other time, Len might have teased him for using _such a big word_ , but he knew it would fall flat now.

“Why dontcha then?” Mick asked him while munching on a piece of potato. “Guy’s cute, guy knows your kinks, gets you going, he likes you, you like him. Where’s the problem?”

“I’m married to you,” Len murmured, pushing around a lettuce leaf on his plate.

“I know that. We’re married, and we’re poly. So. Problem?”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“Explain it then. The poly thing.”

“No, it’s . . . you.”

“. . . Me?”

“He doesn’t . . . he doesn’t know about you.”

Mick set down his fork, and Len didn’t need to look up to see the expression on Mick’s face, a mix of exasperated fondness and the barely restrained urge to punch Len in the face. Mick’s bearlike paw came to rest over his own hand, and a sigh rang out from across the table.

“Oh, Len.”


	3. Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gentle, quiet afternoon that Len spends with his Master.

Len let out a hum as Master’s hands slid over his skin, deftly positioning the rope where he wanted it to lay. Len was kneeling in the middle of the living room, his hands behind his back, his eyes closed, just as his Master had instructed him to be. 

Master had placed a silken cloth around his head first, blindfolding him on top of his closed eyes, and then he’d started to tie him up with the red rope that he had been talking about for weeks. He’d shown it to Len before he’d instructed him to close his eyes; it was soft, and a deep, full, rich red that Len knew would look amazing against his skin. He knew that the blindfold covered most of his face, leaving only his nose and his mouth free to allow him to breathe freely, but left his face mostly unrecognizable. He had requested it like this, so that when Master took pictures of him later, his identity would not be apparent. 

Master had never taken pictures of him before, but he’d wanted to take pictures of Len in the red rope, so all that Len had asked for was for the pictures to be taken on his own phone, and for his face to not be in them. And now he was kneeling there, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of his Master’s hands on him, wrapping him up in the rope and tying it into beautiful patterns all over Len’s body. 

Neither of them spoke, and yet, the atmosphere was relaxed. Len felt like he was being wrapped up in his Master’s warm embrace, held tightly and safely away from anything that the outside world might throw at him. He wasn’t being held back by the bonds Master was placing on him; he was being cradled by them, safely cocooned away into a place that belonged solely to Master and to him, and that no one else could reach.

A small voice inside his head said that really, this place should belong to Master and him and _Mick_ , but Len quickly squashed it and pushed it aside. This was just a scene between him and Master, and no one else.

As if sensing that Len was thinking too much, Master started humming, following a simple, soothing melody, something that Len could easily latch onto, could easily follow. So Len took a deep breath, and then let it out again, and with it, let all the tension escape from his muscles, sending it out of his body together with his breath, and he made himself relax into his bonds again. 

He focused on what Master was humming and allowed his thoughts to pass by him like clouds. He wouldn’t stop them from showing up, but he also wouldn’t hold on to them. Instead, he would simply observe them, like one would observe the clouds passing by on a sunny day while lying in the sun-warmed grass and basking in the sun’s warmth on one’s skin. He simply relaxed into the rope and followed the sound of Master’s voice and the feeling of his fingers on Len’s skin, allowing himself to drift and bask in the presence of his Master like others would bask in the presence of the sun.

By the time that Master finished tying Len into the rope and took a step aside to grab Len’s phone, Len was sure that if he was any more relaxed, he would be a puddle on the floor. It was an amazing feeling, and he didn’t want to give it up for anything.

“Still on board with me taking pictures?” Master asked from right in front of Len, where Len assumed he’d crouched down to be face to face with Len. Not that he could see it. He nodded, though, since he really hadn’t changed his mind about the pictures.

“Alright. Can you tell me your safeword, dear?”

Digging in his brain to find the necessary commands to make his tongue work proved a bit harder, but eventually, he managed. “Lettuce.”

“Good boy,” Master praised him.

“Now, I’m going to take some pictures of you on your own phone, so you have control over what happens to them.”

Len just nodded, as this was just what they had discussed previously. It made him tense somewhat, knowing that Master was walking around him now, taking pictures of him in this state, but he trusted Master to be careful and to be mindful of Len’s boundaries.

Still, he didn’t realise how much he had tensed up until Master’s hand touched his shoulder, grounding him and draining all the tension out of his body.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Master told him, waiting until Len was relaxed and pliant and settled into the bonds that his Master gave him again before pulling his hand away.

He continued for a while, and at first, Len was confused by him not giving any instructions on how he should hold himself, but then he pushed it out of his mind, trusting his Master to know what he was doing, and simply knelt and relished the feeling of safety and trust that the rope was giving him.

“Do you want to see it for yourself?” Master asked him after a while, his voice coming from directly in front of Len again. “If you want to, I can take off the blindfold so you can have a look. I’m all done taking pictures.”

Len pondered that for a moment, but in the end, he shook his head. “Can I see the pictures later, Master?” he croaked and was rewarded with a gentle hand on his cheek.

“I will get you some water. And of course you can, dear. Should I take off the ropes before the blindfold, then?”

Len just nodded mutely, then listened to Master move around the room for a few moments before he was back and pressing a straw against his lips. “Here, drink some,” Master told him, and Len gratefully did so.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Len,” Master murmured, and Len smiled around his straw and leaned into Master as best as he could, trying to wordlessly return the feeling.

Once Master deemed him sufficiently hydrated again, the straw disappeared, but Master was back again shortly afterwards, and then his hands were on Len’s skin again, nice and warm and grounding. Only this time, they weren’t tying him up and sending him to a world of safety and just being _Master’s_ ; rather, they gently guided him back towards reality, allowed him to slowly surface from the subspace he was in, allowed him to ease back into his own identity and to find himself as his own person again, with a life outside of being his Master’s sub. But Barry always eased the way whenever he could, never yanked him harshly back to reality but let him float in his subspace before very carefully, caringly bringing him back to Earth.

By the time Len blinked his eyes open after Barry took off the blindfold, he almost felt like himself again, and yet he already missed the nice, floaty, careless feeling of subspace. He winced a bit at the light, but his eyes became reaccustomed to it very quickly, seeing as Barry had dimmed the lights in the entire room in anticipation of Len’s light sensitivity after being blindfolded for a while.

“Feeling alright?” Barry asked him, and Len nodded, not quite able to think through the rest of his muddled, floaty brain yet.

“Alright. Let me check if everything is alright and make sure I didn’t tie anything too tightly, okay?”

Again, Len nodded, knowing full well that the bonds hadn’t been too tight at all, but he still appreciated Barry checking him over just to be sure. Just like he had expected, though, there was no chafing and no indication that any important points in his circulation had been cut off too harshly or for too long.

Barry came to stand in front of him again then and held out his hand. “Want to get up? I made some cookies, the ones with Earl Grey tea and orange zest that you like."

And as if just Barry’s hand wouldn’t be enough on its own, the promise of cookies spurred Len into action, and he reached out to clasp Barry’s hand to allow him to pull him up.

And just like that, pins and needles were shooting through Len’s legs, and if it weren’t for Barry’s arms immediately reaching out to stabilize him, he just might have ended up back on the floor.

“Alright, next time, some leg stretches during the session . . . are you okay?” Barry asked him, but the amusement colouring his voice showed that he wasn’t overly worried. And neither was Len; he’d had some cases of pins and needles before and knew it would just go away by itself within a few moments.

“Yeah, just . . . some jelly legs still.”

A few minutes later, they were once more sitting on Barry’s sofa, Len with some instructions to keep his legs moving to encourage his blood flow and a plate of cookies in his hand, and Barry with a mug of tea and a cookie of his own.

“How are you feeling?” Barry asked him, and Len couldn’t hold back a soft smile. As was usual after sessions with Barry, he felt amazing.

“That was really nice,” he admitted, much more shyly than he would like to. “It was . . . very peaceful.”

“I’m glad it felt like that.” With a smile, Barry retrieved Len’s phone and held it out to him. “If you want to, you can take a look at the pictures.”

Len put the plate of cookies down before reaching for his phone. It felt out of place here since he always left it in the hallway when he was with Barry. Today, they had made an exception, but it somehow still didn’t feel right. Nonetheless, he quickly turned on the screen and went to the recently taken pictures. And there he was, naked but for the red boxer briefs he’d been told to wear for today, trussed up lovingly like a Christmas goose, his face covered with just the tip of his nose and his jaw visible. He looked at peace, for lack of better words to describe it. Even from just the pictures, Len could see how truly relaxed he’d been, not worried about posture or appearance, but just relaxed and safe in Barry’s bondage. And the deep red did look good on his skin, especially with the boxer briefs and the blindfold matching in colour. It was almost serene-looking, the scene that was spread out before him. He wondered if Barry had liked what he had seen there.

“Do you want me to forward you some of these?” he asked, skipping through the pictures again and allowing Barry to look at them over his shoulder.

“Only if you want to. We agreed to take them on your phone so you would have full control over them.”

Len looked at him and was struck by how much he was truly _amazed_ by Barry. He’d never met someone so sweet, so caring, and yet so firm. Someone who could make him feel like he was not worth the dirt under his feet, while always, always giving him the safety that he was cherished and his submission was happily accepted. There was no one else he would rather go on his knees for, Len realised, and that was a startling thought to have.

Especially considering that once Barry found out about Mick, he’d be sure to never want to see Len again.

Len swallowed and hoped that he wasn’t making a huge mistake as he forwarded Barry some of the pictures he’d taken.

  
  


***

  
  


“So let me get this straight. Mick knows you’re seeing a guy to be kinky with—don’t look at me like that, Lenny, I know you’re as kinky as they come and Mick isn’t—you got feelings for the guy, guy’s got feelings for you, but you can’t be with him because you were an idiot and didn’t tell him about Mick?”

Len pressed himself deeper into the sofa cushions and crossed his arms over his chest before nodding, pointedly not meeting Lisa’s eyes

“Wasn’t any of his business . . . and now it’s too late.”

“So then what happened when it was a good time to tell him?”

“I didn’t realise that time had come.”

“Oh, Lenny, . . .”

“Don’t ‘ _oh, Lenny’_ me!”

Lisa sighed and flopped down on the sofa beside him. How she could still look graceful while doing that was beyond Len.

“Look,” she told him, and he could tell that she was trying hard not to roll her eyes. “You messed up. That happens. People aren’t perfect. What you need to do is man up and _tell the guy_. He’ll be angry. You’ll deserve it. But if you own up to it, he might come around and give things a go. And if he doesn’t come around, he won’t be worth it, alright? You’re an adult, Len. Behave like one. You’re my big brother; you raised me. You’re the goddamn mayor of this city. I know you can do it.”

“It’s not that easy,” Len heard himself protesting feebly, but he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance. If there was someone beside Mick who’d always call his bullshit, it was Lisa.

“No, it really is. Trust me on this one, Len. You’re one of the strongest people I know, so put that to work. And you know we’ll be there for you through it all, but give the damn guy a chance to see what he’s getting into, Len. You’re not just playing with your own feelings, but with his, too.”

With that, Lisa got up and pulled Len with her. “You got this, big brother.”

He didn’t feel like he got this at all, but he still nodded, knowing that Barry deserved to know, that Barry deserved better than to be led on like this.

“I’ve got a date, so I gotta get ready now, and you need to go home and work out how to tell your boy toy what’s up.”

“He’s not my—”

“Whatever, Lenny. Anyway, once you’ve figured it out, bring him to dinner, yeah?”

And with that, she walked off to the bathroom, leaving Len to find his way to the front door himself, but she paused at the door frame and turned around again.

“Lenny. You know I love you, right, big brother?”

And Len couldn’t help but send a smile back at her that was much too soft for his liking. “And I love you, lil sis. Now go get ready for your date.”

And with that, he walked out, wondering how the hell he was going to tell Barry what was going on.


	4. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, the truth has to come out. Even if it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Leonard is terrible with emotions, as you might have seen over the course of the first chapters... so this one was bound to hurt. But I promise that this chapter is actually a surprising amount of fluff... after the angst!

_Can I come over?_ Len texted to Barry, on a Wednesday evening. Just a few moments later, his phone pinged.

**Allen, Barry** : _Now??_

_Yes, now. I need to tell you something._

**Allen, Barry** _: Sure. I’m free._

Len put his phone down and went over to where Mick was sitting on the couch, sipping beer, and staring into a candle.

“Mick . . .”

“Yeah, boss?”

“I . . . can we . . . go over to Barry’s?”

Mick slowly turned his head, almost as if he was expecting a ghost to appear in Len’s place.

“Together?”

Len took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, together.”

Apparently, that was all the explanation Mick needed, as he drained his beer and left it on the couch table as he got up. Normally Len would give him hell about that, but since Mick was coming with him to what was bound to be a very unpleasant experience, he’d let it slide.

A very tense ten-minute car ride later, they were standing in front of Barry’s door, and it only took Len two minutes to raise his hand and knock on the door, which swung open only shortly afterwards.

“Hey, Len,” Barry greeted him, a happy smile on his face until he saw Mick and faltered. “I . . . hi?”

Len glanced back at Mick with a very forced smile, then turned back to Barry. “Can we come in?”

Barry eyed Mick dubiously for another moment, then stepped back and opened the door to let them in.

“Sure. Come inside. Do you want something to drink?”

He gestured to the door of the living room while stepping into the direction of the kitchen himself. Len found himself in the familiar hallways and immediately felt wrong-footed. His mat was missing, the one he would always kneel on to greet Barry, and it felt wrong to stand here and not put aside his valuables and take off his clothes. It also, somehow, felt very wrong to have Mick here with him. This was the place that belonged to just Barry and Len.

He cleared his throat, trying to find his internal balance again. “A glass of water, perhaps?”

He looked at Mick, who just shook his head. Barry nodded and stepped away into the kitchen, leaving Len to lead Mick into the living room. They both sat down on the couch, and Len almost felt sick at the sight of the familiar dark-green fabric. He’d wondered if he’d ever see it again after tonight.

“So . . . what brings you here?” Barry asked as he came in from the kitchen, bearing two glasses of water and a few of the same cookies he’d fed to Len the weekend before. He sat down on one of the armchairs, then glanced at Mick again. “And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before?”

Len nodded at that, then looked at Mick as well for a long moment before turning back to Barry.

“Barry . . . that’s Mick. He’s my husband.”

Len couldn’t tell how long the time was where nothing happened. It could have been a fraction of a second; it could have been an entire eon.

And then, Barry calmly placed his glass of water down on the side table, as always meticulously on a coaster. Len wanted to laugh hysterically at the fact that he’d spent so much time with Barry that he recognised those little details about him.

“So. You cheated on him then. With me.”

It wasn’t even a question, and Barry’s face was a mask of calm indifference as he spoke. Somehow, that hurt Len more than a yelling, angry Barry would have.

“No. I . . . no, I didn’t.”

Barry raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for more. Len looked down at his hands, absently noting that he couldn’t feel them anymore. His fingers were ice cold and full of pins and needles, but he couldn’t properly feel them anymore.

He looked back at Barry, willing him to understand without needing to use words, but Barry just sat there all the same, looking at him with a face that could just as well have been made from stone.

In the end, it was Mick who came to his rescue.

“We’re poly. Lenny ‘n’ me,” he explained. Barry glanced over at him, then immediately looked back to Len, his eyebrow raised.

“Good for you. Why am I hearing about this now, after we’ve seen each other for a year?”

Len gulped, looking to the side and staring at the plate of cookies without really seeing them.

“It’s not like we’re . . . together or anything,” he murmured, wincing as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Barry’s whole expression tightened at that, and he glared at Len. “So . . . a year of weekly, steady scenes is nothing then? Is that why you never stay after a scene? Or why you never want to meet up for other things outside of scenes? Because you need to get back to your poly husband that I don’t know about?” Barry had raised his voice a bit at the end, but for all Len cared, he could have been shouting. He flinched at the sharp tone of Barry’s voice and looked down at his numb hands. His lips were feeling numb too, and he didn’t quite know why there was so much cotton in his head. He looked up at Barry again, but for all he could make out from his expression, he might as well have been staring at a wall.

“Len’s an idiot, is what,” Mick grumbled, and Len looked at him incredulously.

“‘S true,” Mick insisted and glared at Len, then grabbed the second glass of water and pushed it in Len’s hand. “Drink this before you faint, and don’t fucking panic.”

_Oh_.

Len took the glass, pretending his hands weren’t shaking as he slowly sipped the water.

Meanwhile, Mick sat back on the couch and turned to Barry. “He’s a mess. Lemme explain?”

Barry didn’t look too happy at the prospect but gave a court nod, which seemed to be enough for Mick.

“See, he’s this kinky fucker; I like it vanilla. We’re both poly, so we find partners outside of our marriage. Lenny here’s usually the ‘pick ‘em up and drop ‘em’ guy, but he somehow got stuck on you. You seem to push his buttons . . . or iron out his kinks, or whatever shit you do. But he’s an idiot, right, so he didn’t realise feelings were a thing until like two weeks ago. Thing is, people are weird. They don’t know what poly is, or they think it’s some creepy cheater shit. So we don’t always say so unless things get serious.” He turned around to look at Len, and Len swallowed the last bit of water and carefully placed the glass down on one of the coasters on the table.

“And I . . . I thought I’d tell you once we’d got serious and if I wanted more from you than just scenes, but then I . . . things just . . . happened and it just . . . I just . . .” He shrugged, helplessly trying to look for words.

“It just never came up. And then I realised I might want more and I . . . I hadn’t told you yet.”

“It just never came up?” Barry repeated, then scoffed. Somehow, Len was relieved to see even a little bit of emotion from him.

“You were seeing me every single week, and I always asked you how you were doing and if there were things going on, and _it never came up?_ A full year and not a moment where you could have mentioned that oh, by the way, you have a husband already? And what that means for us? If there was even ever a chance for me to be anything but the side piece who scratches the itch that your partner can’t fulfill? That’s weak, Leonard, that’s fucking weak.”

He’d become agitated as he spoke, and it hurt so much to see Barry’s eyes fill with angry tears, to know that he was the one causing the pain Barry was feeling.

“Barry, no! Please, let me explain.”

“You just did. I think now it’s time for you to leave.” Barry got up and pointedly began collecting the glasses.

“No, Barry, I—”

He stopped when he felt Mick’s hand on his arm and turned to look at his husband.

“If he wants us to go, we should go. We explained, but it’s a lot. And you got each other’s phone numbers, so I’m sure Barry will contact you when he’s ready to talk.” At that, he glanced over at Barry, who was still glaring angrily at Len. He sighed then, though, and nodded.

“I guess. Now leave. Please.”

He did follow Len and Mick into the hallway and opened the door for them, and as they stepped through, Len turned around again, unable to resist trying to talk to Barry one last time.

“Barry, I—”

The door shut in his face without further ado, and Mick tugged Len back to their car.

Len had no idea how he managed, but he held himself together until he made it home and to their couch before he broke down crying.

  
  


***

  
  


It was Saturday again, and it had been a week and a half since that disastrous evening at Barry’s house. Since then, he’d mainly moped about—even though he would never admit it—at least when he was at home. At work, he pulled himself together and put on a brave face, pretending his heartbreak hadn’t happened. It wasn’t like the public even knew that he was married, or who he was married to, since he kept his private life under tight wraps. So he went to charity events, met with business people, shook so many hands that he thought his own would fall off, and smiled.

In the past week, he’d even been at the precinct, had congratulated Chief Singh on an important job well done, and had managed not to run after CSI Allen like a lovesick child when he’d walked past and greeted him with a simple “Mayor Rory” without letting on that he knew him from more than a television screen.

Len had eaten an entire tub of ice cream by himself that night.

And Mick . . . Mick somehow was a saint, putting up with his moping without ever letting him slide too deep into self-pity, making him help around the house or taking him out into the forest for walks when things were getting too terrible. And sometimes, on those walks, Len found himself mindlessly talking about the things he’d never really shared with Mick before: how he’d met Barry while he was undercover at a BDSM club, how they had gotten to talking to give Barry an even better cover, how it had turned out that he really was a Dom but didn’t frequent the club scene much. He talked about how Barry had always insisted that they have scenes at his house, where he had all the equipment and knew his way around, and where they wouldn’t be disturbed. He told Mick how he’d tried to get the story for a year now about why a CSI was sent on an undercover mission, but how Barry had never cracked and told him the full story yet. He told him about Barry and his sweet smile and his infectious good moods and how he felt like the sun was shining on him when Barry grinned at him. He told him about how caring Barry was, and how obviously he’d fallen for Len, but how he’d never pushed . . . even though Len had sometimes wished he’d done so.

And Mick . . . Mick listened to him and held him when he was feeling particularly down and missing Barry particularly badly, or when he felt like he needed all the control taken away from him but didn’t know if Barry would ever do that for him again.

It was Saturday again now, and Len’s phone had been silent for one and a half weeks. He was sitting on the couch again, wrapped up in soft blankets and eating too much ice cream straight from the tub with Mick was drinking beer next to him, when his doorbell rang.

“Not home,” Len suggested, but Mick just looked at him and got up to go to the door.

“Prolly just the mailman,” he grumbled and walked off, leaving Len alone with his ice cream and some stupid documentation on Roman Architecture that neither of them had been watching anyway.

He could hear the door open, and then quiet voices, and the door closing again. Mailman, then.

Except when Mick walked back towards the living room, Len could clearly hear two sets of footsteps coming down the hallway. Len groaned and pulled the blankets closer around himself. He should have insisted that they weren’t home.

“Visitor for you, boss,” Mick told him, and Len just barely resisted hissing at him. He certainly didn’t want anyone seeing him like this if he knew them from work, and Lisa would come in without ringing the doorbell. So really, it was bound to be a disaster.

But still, since he apparently qualified as an adult in the eyes of society, he lowered the blanket enough to see who had come to see him—and was met with an uncertain looking but smiling Barry.

Immediately, he jumped up, tangling himself in the blanket and almost falling over and smashing his head on the coffee table.

Mick snickered, then stepped forward and collected Len’s tub of ice cream. “Imma give you some space. Don’t set the house on fire.”

“That’s your job anyway,” Len responded absently, his eyes focused solely on Barry. Once Mick was gone—likely out into the garden where he would finish Len’s ice cream by himself, Len gestured at the couch.

“Uh . . . hi. Do you . . . can I get you something?”

Barry shook his head at that, but took a seat on the couch, then held out a box to Len. “I . . . I baked. Again. Sorry, I thought you might like . . .”

Len took the box and pried the lid open, smiling when he saw some cookies. Immediately, he grabbed one and bit into it, closing his eyes as the taste of a perfectly baked cookie flooded his mouth.

“Better than ice cream?” Barry asked, and Len nodded without even thinking about it.

“Much better.”

Barry chuckled, but then fell quiet again. “I . . . listen, can we talk?”

Len took a moment to seal the box of cookies again and placed it on the coffee table, then sat back and wrapped the blanket back around his waist as he nodded.

“Sure. What . . . what can I do for you?”

Now it was Barry’s turn to stall and to take a moment to needlessly reposition himself on the couch. Then: “I wanted to apologize. I was . . . very harsh, when we last spoke, and I . . . I still don’t really understand, but. It meant a lot to me, what we had . . . what we have, and I wanted to . . . just talk, I guess.”

Len nodded, pretty sure he was looking too eager for his own good, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m sorry. For keeping it from you for so long.”

Barry just sighed and shrugged at that, then leaned back into the sofa. “I mean, I also never asked you. I googled once, but there was nothing about your private life, so I figured there was nothing going on there, nothing apart from me or what I thought we were growing into.”

“I make sure to keep my private life private. It’s just . . . no one’s business, really.” He shrugged, then turned to face Barry completely, so they were both sitting sideways on the couch, knees turned towards one another and legs awkwardly pretzeled together. “I would like to . . . grow into something with you.”

“But you’re married?” Barry frowned, tilting his head in confusion.

“Yeah. We’re poly, as we mentioned before.”

“Okay. Yeah, Mick mentioned that you were looking for people to give you what you can’t give each other. That sounds like—I don’t know, what would you be open for? Would I always just be your kink piece on the side, giving you what your husband can’t?”

“No, no!” Len shook his head and waved Barry off before he could go any further.

“No, it’s . . . that’s what it usually is, for us, because—” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face to buy himself some time. “because we get the emotional stuff from each other. So it’s mostly just physical. But with you, it’s different.” He sighed and looked around the room as if he expected a sign with the perfect wording for what he wanted to say to pop up. “I want emotional things with you too. I just couldn’t, because you didn’t know . . . didn’t know about Mick.”

“What do you mean when you say that? Emotional things?” Barry asked him, his eyes never leaving Len’s face. “We’ve done plenty of emotional things already.”

“The whole being together thing, I guess.”

“So like . . . boyfriends?”

“Yeah. Like boyfriends.”

Barry nodded and took a look around the room. Len wondered if he also was looking for conveniently placed signs to give him the proper wording that he needed.

“I won’t do twenty-four-seven BDSM though, not in a relationship,” Barry told him in the end, his eyes travelling back to Len’s. “I want an equal, that I can do fun scenes with.”

Len nodded, having almost expected something like this from Barry.

“Yeah. I don’t think that would work in a relationship. It does in stories, but not in real life.”

Barry nodded slowly, then sat up a bit straighter.

“But . . . how would that even work? How are you with two people at the same time?”

“You . . . I make time for both. Dates with you, dates with Mick. Nights spent with you, nights spent with Mick. Movie night here, dinner out there. Maybe, if you two get along, we can do things with the three of us. Have dinner together, watch movies, cuddle . . . I don’t know, I haven’t . . . I haven’t had two partners before. Just Mick and some fun on the side.”

Barry listened to him silently, then scooted a bit closer so he could reach over and take Len’s hand in his. “I mean . . . we could always work it out together. I’ve never been with someone who has another partner before, and it might take some time to get used to that thought, but . . . Damn it, Len, I like you. I really like you.”

Len smiled at him and used his other hand to enclose Barry’s hand in his. He noticed how much smaller it was than Mick’s hand and how holding it made him feel just as warm inside as holding Mick’s space-heater-come-bear-paw hand. “Yeah,” he murmured and gently stroked the back of Barry’s hand. “Yeah, that.”

Barry chuckled but didn’t make any move to pull his hand back.

“So . . . how long have you and Mick been together then?”

“It’s a big year. Thirty years together, twenty-five years married. It’s Silver Anniversary time this summer.”

“Wow . . . wow, that’s a long time.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, it is. And we’re still going strong. Right?”

He looked at Mick, who had chosen that moment to appear in the doorway, and who rolled his eyes but obediently came over and pecked Len on the cheek. “Sure thing. So, Barry, are you staying for dinner?”

“Oh, I didn’t . . . I don’t mean to intrude. If you want to eat, I can also just . . .” Barry gestured behind him in the direction of the door and was halfway off the sofa by the time Len had grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“Barry. That was an invitation.”

“I . . . oh. Uh . . . yeah?”

It was adorable to see Barry so flustered, and Len couldn’t resist leaning in and placing a small kiss on his cheek as well. The blush blooming on Barry’s cheeks certainly was worth it.

“Alright, lovebirds. Lasagna for three coming up.”

“Should we help you with something?” Len called after a retreating Mick while Barry was still recovering.

“Nah, your help in the kitchen is double the work anyway,” Mick called back, and then closed the door to the kitchen behind him. Len looked back to Barry, who was still blushing but was now determinedly scooting forward again.

“I think you missed the right spot when you kissed me,” he told Len brazenly, though his eyes showed some trepidation still. Len smiled indulgently and scooted closer himself, his own eyes dropping down to Barry’s lips.

“Yeah? I think you should show me where the right spot is,” he murmured, then leaned in.

And just as expected, Barry met him halfway, capturing Len’s lips in a sweet, gentle, caring kiss. It wasn’t fireworks and stars, but even though it was their first kiss, it already felt like _home_. And home, Len thought, had always been his favourite place.

  
  


***

  
  


They were at Len and Mick’s house, where Barry had become a dinner guest once a week. Len still went over to Barry on Saturdays, but they had decided to not do any scenes while their relationship was just budding, wanting to settle into the new situation first before going back to more intimate settings. So they would just talk, and watch Netflix, and cuddle, and do whatever they wanted, all day long, and somehow, that relaxed Len almost as much as their scenes could. And Barry would come over once a week for dinner, so Barry and Mick could get to know one another, because now that things were out in the open, they’d both said they wanted to know the other person in Len’s life. And Sundays . . . Sundays were for Mick, as they had always been. Sunday was Mick-and-Len time, where Len usually didn’t even check his phone or chat with others. These days, Barry was an exception to that, but on Sundays, he still only rarely responded to Barry’s texts, just like he hardly replied to Mick on Saturdays. It was a routine they were slowly finding, and for now, things were going pretty well.

“So, what is it you do?” Barry asked over a bite of heavenly tasting boeuf bourguignon, looking over at Mick. “I don’t think you ever said.”

“I’m a writer,” Mick told him, and then busied himself with his dinner, like he always did when that subject came up. Somehow, he was still afraid of rejection for his profession, even though Len knew that he was more than brilliant at what he did.

“Yeah? Cool, what are you writing?”

Len chuckled at the predictability of Barry’s question, only to get a poked-out tongue from the man in response.

“Um . . . have you heard of Rebecca Silver?”

“Yeah! She’s glorious! I actually have tickets for RomantiCon this year so I can see her! There’s a panel just for her and a meet and greet later, too!”

Len took a deep breath, making sure not to let anything show on his face because he knew what was coming now, and he couldn’t start laughing beforehand.

So instead, he watched the slow smile build on Mick’s face, and watched him reach out across the table, offering his hand to Barry. “Always pleased to meet a fan.”

Barry’s fork clattered on the table, and he stared at Mick with an open mouth.

“Oh. My. God. Are you _kidding_ me?”

“Nope. I am married to Rebecca Silver,” Len grinned, and burst out laughing at the expression on Barry’s face.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it!” Barry was out of his chair by now and surrounding the table so he could throw his arms around Mick in a hug. Mick, of course, tensed up, and Len was just about to tell Barry to back off when Mick relaxed and wrapped his own arms around Barry in return for just a moment before pushing him away himself.

“That good, huh?”

“You have no idea . . . They’re my favourite books. They just . . . they’re so great. Thank you for writing them.” Barry beamed as he went back to his seat and picked his fork back up, shaking his head.

“Man . . . that’s not what I expected to hear right now.”

“What did you expect, then?” Mick asked him, shoving too much food at once into his mouth like he always did.

“I don’t know, something like . . . maybe a firefighter, or a security guy. I don’t know, maybe a world-class thief.”

“The thief and the mayor . . . hm, there’s a story in there,” Mick grinned, obviously fond of having found a way to tease Barry.

And Len, for his part, was just really happy to see his husband and his boyfriend finding something to bond over.

“Oh. RomantiCon, though,” Mick remarked, then pointed his fork at Len. “Imma be gone all weekend, you should . . . do things with your Doll.”

“Not his Doll,” Barry complained, fruitlessly, like always.

“I seem to remember that Barry just said he also has a ticket to that, though.”

“Yeah . . . but I think a friend can have mine. Turns out that wouldn’t be my only opportunity to see Rebecca Silver,” Barry shrugged and gave Len a shy smile. “I’d love to spend a weekend with you. Maybe . . . with a small scene?”

“Sounds good,” Len smiled, just before Mick groaned and shook his head.

“No kink talk at my dinner table.”

“It’s my dinner table too, you know.”

“No matter. I cooked, so it’s my dinner table, so no kink talk.”

Len gasped in mock-offense and threw his napkin at Mick, who retaliated by stealing the most perfect piece of beef from Len’s plate.

In the ensuing wrangling as Len tried to steal a piece from Mick’s plate in return, Len could hear Barry’s full-bodied laugh at their antics, and he immediately felt a warmth spread through him at the sound. Really, he wouldn’t mind if this was what his life would turn out to be. 


	5. Flying, Crashing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a sweet, fluffy weekend at Barry’s. With maybe a little panicking on the side.

Just a few weeks later, Mick was gone for RomantiCon, and Len turned up at Barry’s front door with an overnight bag. For some reason, that fact made him more nervous than he should be. He’d spent plenty of time with Barry by now, and they’d cuddled in bed quite a few times, but Len had never stayed the night. He claimed that sleeping in his own bed made him more relaxed, which was definitely true, but . . . there was also the issue that sleeping in one bed with your boyfriend for an entire night would bring up the issue of sex, which Len and Barry had not had . . . and had not talked about yet. But Len figured, as with so many things, he could worry about it later.

Before he could get himself together and knock on Barry’s door or ring the bell, the door swung open and Barry grinned at Len before greeting him with a kiss.

“Hello there, handsome. Come in.”

Len stepped inside and put his bag down, but then stilled, watching Barry as he closed the door. It didn’t feel foreign to be in Barry’s hallway like this anymore, the past weeks of coming here and spending time with Barry without any power imbalances had taken care of that, but now that he knew that Barry had something planned for them again, he felt a bit doubtful of how he should behave.

“What’s up?” Barry asked him, then helped him to take off his coat.

“I was just wondering . . . this is usually where we start scenes?”

“Yeah. But I thought we could do the scene a bit later? I have something planned that isn’t too hard for now, so we can get reacquainted with that side of us. But if you want to, we can come back here later to start the scene?”

“Yeah, that . . . That sounds good. It always helps me to get into the mindset, being here, taking my clothes off for you.”

“Yeah, I read that rituals are very helpful to start bringing the sub into a subby mindset . . . seems to work almost perfectly on you.” Barry leaned in for another kiss, then grabbed Len’s arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “But first. Wanna cook with me?”

“You know I can’t cook, Barry.”

Barry chuckled and shook his head. “I have no idea how you spent thirty years being with Mick without learning how to cook. That guy is a master chef. No offense, but if we ever break up, I might go for Mick instead, just to eat his cooking all the time.”

“That’s just me, really. Got myself a master chef and a master baker, so I don’t need to do any of the work but can have all of the food.”

He got a sharp jab in the side for that, but Barry immediately pulled him into a kiss to soothe the effect of it. And then they somehow ended up like that, Len standing in front of Barry, caging him and crowding him against the counter, and Barry with his arms thrown around Len’s neck, kissing him . . . and kissing him . . . and kissing him. It had been a while since Len had made out with someone, and Barry was a really good kisser, so he certainly had no complaints. He had nice, soft lips, and he kissed really nice and deeply and with so much care and—and suddenly, Barry pulled back and ducked his way out of Len’s arms, looking flushed and a bit messy and somehow very startled.

“Something wrong?” Len asked him, and Barry just shook his head.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to get too carried away.”

Len frowned in confusion, but let it drop for now, and instead reached for the onion that was lying on the chopping board, looking like it needed to be in smaller pieces for cooking. “So, can I help you with this?”

And with that, they launched into cooking dinner, Barry doing most of the work and Len chopping some things here and there, but mostly just watching.

With the casserole in the oven, though, Barry turned to Len with a bit of a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s go into the hallway?”

Back in the hallway, Barry placed Len’s mat on the ground and pulled his collar out of a drawer, and then just looked at Len, one eyebrow raised, a clear, wordless command.

Somehow, it was weirder now to get undressed in front of Barry, weirder than before, when they hadn’t actually been together yet. But Len pushed that away and started with taking his phone out of his pocket, turning it off and placing it in its usual place, next to his wallet and keys. Then he started unbuttoning his shirt, taking his time, and letting Barry look as much as he wanted to.

And as he went, he did find that his mind was slowly calming down, that something in him settled even now that they were just in the preparation stage and he was only taking off his clothes and they weren’t properly in a scene yet.

Once he was naked, he stepped forward and sank to his knees on the mat, keeping his eyes down and his hands on his thighs as he awaited the first command from his Master. Of course, the first thing his Master did was to gently fasten the collar around Len’s throat, making Len hum slightly in contentment. He did love belonging to his Master.

“Tell me your safeword, Len.”

“Lettuce, Master.”

“Alright, darling. Okay, slight change of rules,” Master told him, and Len nodded, awaiting whatever was going to come now.

“Before, you were only allowed to look me in the eye if I explicitly allowed you to. Now, I want to turn it around. You are always allowed to look at me unless I tell you before a scene that you are not. Alright?”

Len smiled a little and immediately lifted his head to look at his Master. His beautiful, caring Master, whom he was very happy to serve. “Very alright, Master.”

“Good, good. Alright then, let’s go inside.”

Once in the living room, Master led him to the dining table, where Len noted there was only one place setting. Master pointed to a cushion next to the chair with the place setting, and Len obediently knelt on it, earning himself a kiss on the top of his head from his Master.

“Good boy. Now I want you to stay here while I get the food from the kitchen, alright? And then I’m going to hand feed you.” A quick boop on the tip of his nose, and then Master was gone, off into the kitchen to grab their dinner. Len allowed himself a little smile before shuffling around on his cushion to find the best way to situate himself so he would be comfortable throughout their meal.

Master soon returned with the steaming casserole dish, and Len would have called the portion he dished out excessive if he hadn’t known that it was for the two of them. The casserole looked like it would make enough leftovers for two weeks, though, but maybe Master liked freezing his meals for later use like Mick sometimes did.

“Are you comfortable?” Master asked him, his hand already in Len’s hair, carding through the short strands as he pulled Len’s head to rest against his thigh.

“Yes, Master,” Len supplied, watching Master blow on a bite of food until he deemed it cool enough for Len to eat. He obediently opened his mouth to eat out of Master’s hand and hummed at the pleasant taste of it. It wasn’t Mick’s cooking, but it was nice and cheesy, and the piece of chicken he’d gotten wasn’t too dry. “Thank you, Master. It’s very good.”

“Why, thanks, darling,” Master hummed and took a bite for himself. “Yeah . . . it’s not too bad.”

And from there, they settled into a rhythm, Master feeding Len and himself, and Len nuzzling into Master from time to time just to show his appreciation. He wasn’t bound, but he still found himself holding his hands behind his back and not using them, only using his mouth to take bites of food from Master’s hand, and then licking his fingers clean when there was sauce left on them. He didn’t want Master to be messy, after all, and also the sauce was very nice . . . he wanted every drop of it that Master granted him. 

They didn’t talk much during that time, and yet, Len found himself drifting, found that every piece of food made him feel a bit more like he was floating on clouds, nicely cushioned in soft cotton made from his Master’s care, and he knew that he was sinking deep into subspace, but he had neither the will nor a reason to fight it. So he let himself drift and bask in his Master’s care, enjoying the food and the little head rubs his Master gave him and the gentle hum of Master’s soothing voice when he spoke to Len, talking about nothing of importance. 

Len knew his Master must realise how deep he was into subspace, or at least he hoped that he did, considering he was too far gone to even understand anything Master was talking about. But Master didn’t seem to mind, so Len didn’t mind either and let himself relax, only moving to take what his Master was offering him, then chewing lazily as he enjoyed the added sensation of the flavour and texture in his mouth.

In the end, he wasn’t sure if he’d drifted off into a nap or if he’d been so deep into subspace that he’d basically passed out, but when he came to again, he found himself laying in Master’s bed, and Master was next to him, snuggled into his side as he was typing on his phone. He seemed to notice a change in Len, though, as he put his phone down and turned to look at Len with a smile.

“Back with me again?”

Len hummed noncommittally and blinked his eyes a few times, trying to get himself to wake up a little more.

“Hey, take your time,” Barry murmured and gently stroked his cheek. “There’s all the time in the world. Just rest and let yourself float a while longer if you want it . . . or need it.”

Len hummed again and closed his eyes, snuggling into Barry and letting himself drift a bit more. It was nice to be here, cuddled up with Barry, safe and sound and happy. He took a while still, but the next time he opened his eyes, he was feeling much more awake.

Barry was still curled up next to him, his head resting on Len’s shoulder, and he was still staring at his phone. Currently, he was reading a text from someone and chuckling at a selfie of—

“Is that Mick?”

Barry turned his head enough so he could glimpse at Len, then turned his phone so Len could get a better view of a selfie that showed Mick in front of a crowd. “Technically, that’s Rebecca Silver and her adoring fans,” Barry supplied. “I bet you got one of these too.”

“I had no idea you were texting with Mick,” Len murmured, feeling caught on the wrong foot for some reason. Barry shifted and rolled over so he could properly look at Len, then put his phone aside.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t be friends with my boyfriend’s husband. We swapped phone numbers for recipe exchanges at first . . . and then we got to chatting. I . . . is that weird? It feels so normal, but I also don’t tell you about every single chat I have with a friend, so it just . . . never was a conversation topic, I guess?”

Len nodded, though he was still feeling pretty confused. He liked the idea of Barry and Mick getting along outside of interactions with Len, but it also made him feel almost jealous to know that they didn’t  _need_ him to be friends.

“Do you want to kiss him too?” he blurted out, making Barry pull back slightly.

“How did we get from ‘I am friends with your husband, and he sent me a selfie from a con’ to ‘do I want to kiss my boyfriend’s husband?’”

“I . . . I don’t know, really. I just . . . I don’t know.”

Len rolled over, trying to turn away, but Barry put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Hey, Len. I’m with you. You know that, right? You’re gorgeous, you’re amazing, you’re my good boy, you’re what I want. What problem do you have with me being friends with Mick outside of the points of contact you provide?”

“I don’t know!” Len hissed and shoved the blanket aside. “I don’t know, okay? I’ll go take a shower.”

“Len, wait!”

But Len didn’t wait. He marched straight to the shower, where he turned the water on all the way to ice cold before he slowly let it get warm.


	6. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len has a confession for Barry, and in return, Barry has one for Len.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //how to best come out to your boyfriend? Well, mid-panic attack, of course!

When he came back out of the bathroom, he found the bedroom empty and the bed freshly made. He grabbed his pyjamas from his overnight bag and put them on, then went to look for Barry. In the hallway, he passed his phone, and on instinct, he grabbed it and unlocked the screen. Waiting for him were three texts:

 **Rory, Mick:** _[selfie of Mick in front of a crowd at RomantiCon] Look at my adoring fans!_

 **Rory, Mick:** _< 3 Miss ya_

 **Rory, Mick:** _Don’t fuck things up with Barry just because you’re jealous. I’m friends with your Doll, and if I wanna kiss him, I’ll tell you. Now go kiss it better, idiot!!_

  
  


The last text had been sent an hour after the previous two. Len sighed and slid his phone into the pocket of his pyjama pants and went on with his search for Barry. He found the living room empty as well, but in the kitchen, he found Barry curled up on a chair, clutching a mug of tea in his hands and looking absolutely miserable.

“Hey there,” he murmured and walked over, coming to stand behind Barry and gently placing his hands on Barry’s shoulders. Barry just sighed and took another sip of his tea, then put it down on the counter.

“How are you feeling?” And wasn’t that so very Barry, to ignore that Len had given him shit over nothing and to check in with him, to see if he was doing well?

“How are _you_ feeling?” Len asked him instead of replying and came around to crouch in front of Barry. A flare of guilt shot through him when he saw that Barry’s eyes were red-rimmed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, I—”

“No, it’s not.” Barry looked confused at that, and Len sighed, then let himself drop down to his knees in front of Barry and took his hands into his own. “It’s not. I just . . . I was half in subspace still, and then I saw him sending pictures to you, and I was still feeling so vulnerable and my mind just . . . snapped, with possibilities of you choosing Mick, instead of me. And I . . . I’m sorry.”

Barry stood from the chair and gently tugged on Len’s hand until he was standing as well, then used their joined hands to guide him to the living room and towards the sofa.

“I should not have jumped things on you like that, while you were vulnerable. I should have put my phone away before you could ever see something, and should have let you come back to yourself normally . . . and then maybe it would have come up in conversation at some point . . . I don’t know.” He sighed and dropped down onto the sofa, and Len sat down next to him. Before he could speak, however, Barry raised a hand to stop him. “By the way, I’m not going to choose Mick instead of you. You’re my super-smart, successful, handsome, amazing, subby boyfriend, and that’s exactly what I want. What could Mick give me that you can’t?”

“Sex.” It came out much sharper than he’d intended, sounding much more filled with self-hate than he’d been in years. He’d long since accepted his asexuality and didn’t usually make a big deal of it or acquiesce to sex just for the sake of his partners, but sometimes . . . sometimes there was this nagging voice in his head that told him he’d never be able to keep someone in the long run if he didn’t have sex with them, not romantically at least. What Mick and he had could probably be best described as a queerplatonic relationship, and that was such a mouthful that he never really explained it to anyone. Mick was his husband, and he just smiled all the assumptions that came with that away. But Barry . . . Barry was definitely a romantic interest, and those always came with sex . . . so really, how long would they be able to last without sex? How long would kink sustain them before Barry decided that he really wanted to get off with Len, or that he wanted to fuck him after a scene?

“—ey, Len!” He startled, looking over at Barry, who was shaking his arm and looking at him worriedly. “You spaced out there . . . you okay?”

“Yeah, I just . . .” He shook his head. Maybe it would be best if he just packed up and went home before this could go any more out of hand.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Barry asked him, and Len shook his head again, shifting away from him. He suddenly felt overwhelmed, and it was all too much, and he needed Barry to stay away from him so he could calm down and hopefully repair things once he was feeling better, and then maybe he could bear some sex with Barry so they could stay together and—

“And who says that I want sex?” and — and — and—

“What?”

“I said, who says I want sex?”

“Everyone wants sex.”

“Well, not you, according to how you talk about it. And me—eh, it can be nice sometimes, but most of the time, I’m just fine without. There are so many better things to do.”

And that brought Len to a halt, making him look at Barry for the first time since they sat down.

“So you’re . . . ace, as well?”

“Definitely on the ace spectrum. I consider myself demi, and probably . . . I don’t know—what is it? Grey-asexual. I don’t really care about the terms. I need to really like someone to want it with them, and then I also don’t really need it. As I said, it can be nice every once in a while, but if you never want it, then we never have sex. Don’t sweat it.”

Len, for his part, just stared at Barry, unable to comprehend what he had just been told. He couldn’t be this lucky, really—to find a perfect Dom, who was a wonderfully sweet person, who was amazing, and who was also ace? No, that could never be his luck. And yet, somehow, he inexplicably found himself in Barry’s arms, kissing back with vigor as Barry showed him just how much he could be loved without ever having sex.

  
  


***

  
  


The next morning, Len woke up to sunbeams on his face, and he blinked his eyes open only to close them again at the light that came through Barry’s window. Barry himself was still sleeping, starfished out over the entire bed with one arm and one leg thrown over Len as if to lay claim to him even as he slept.

Len decided to let him sleep a little longer and reached for his phone instead. As expected, a few texts were waiting for him.

 **Rory, Mick** : _Barry said all was fine in the end. Glad you worked it out without me coming over to whip your ass into shape._

 **Rory, Mick:** _That’s more the Doll’s job anyway._

 **Rory, Mick** : _. . . ew_

 **Rory, Mick:** _Sleep tight, Lenny. Love ya_.

Considering the time stamp said he’d been online just a few minutes before, Len didn’t hesitate to text back.

_Glad to know you’re getting chummy with my boyfriend._

_Mick, how do I make Sunday Morning pancakes?_

Needless to say, by the time Barry joined him in the kitchen, Len was despairing over some burnt lumps of batter and the recipe Mick had sent him. Barry laughed that beautiful, full-bodied laugh of his and took a picture of a flour-smeared Len before proceeding to show him how to make the pancakes properly. As they were sitting and eating the pancakes, Barry chuckled while glancing at his phone, then turned it around to show Len. There was the picture of Len with flour all over his face and a few explosion emoji, sent by Barry. And then:

 **Silver Becky:** _Yeah that’s why I never let him make me breakfast._

“Silver Becky?” Len asked, and Barry shrugged. “I told him if he keeps calling me Doll, I’d put him in my phone under the nicknames some people have for his writing pseud. He still called me Doll, so Silver Becky it is. Maybe I should start calling him that to his face.”

Len chuckled and handed Barry’s phone back, but not before sending several stuck-out tongue emoji to Mick from Barry’s phone.

“So . . . what are we doing today?”

“I don’t know . . . I thought we could go on a date? Like . . . a proper date, where we go out somewhere and have a great day and then . . . maybe dinner?”

“Sounds good,” Len nodded, then hesitated. “But . . .”

“But what?”

“You know I keep my private life under wraps, right?”

“Yeah, you said so.”

“Yes, so I’d . . . I’d like it if we weren’t seen too much? I just really don’t want to see the press have a go at it . . . at us, at you. I’m not that important on a nationwide spectrum, but people in the city tend to be much too interested in my life.”

Barry did look a bit sad at that, but he still nodded and leaned across the table to give Len a kiss.

“As long as you’re not ashamed of me.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of when dating a handsome, gorgeous, smart CSI,” Len told him, but somehow, instead of giving Len a relieved smile, Barry tensed a little and pulled his hand back.

“. . . Yeah . . . yeah.” He sighed, and started to collect their plates, leaving a confused Len sitting at his kitchen table.

“Barry? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just . . . this . . . this what we have, it’s serious, right? Like . . . we want to try this for the long run?”

Len frowned but still nodded. “I wouldn’t have been so upset about the whole telling you about Mick thing otherwise . . .”

Barry nodded and sat down across from Len again.

“In that case, there is something I should tell you.”

At that, Len raised both eyebrows, forcing himself to not otherwise react. “Okay . . . ?”

“So . . . when you came clear about Mick, I was very upset, right?” Barry took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, which were neatly folded on the table for once, not fluttering around like usual. “That . . . being so very upset. It might have been . . . a bit hypocritical of me.”

Len didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked at Barry, waiting for whatever it was that was apparently coming his way.

“So, um.” Barry leaned forward, propping one arm up at the elbow so he could hold his hand out a bit, as if he wanted to show Len something. So Len looked at the hand, but there was nothing to see. No ring, no scars, no missing fingers.

And then, the hand started to vibrate.

Len looked at the vibrating hand for a while, then slowly reached out to touch it, feeling the vibrations of it travel through his own hand.

“So . . . I’m dating the Flash?”

Barry sighed and stopped the vibration of his hand, then pulled it back.

“I . . . yeah.”

Len nodded slowly, then shook his head. “I . . . wow.”

“I’m sorry, I meant to tell you sooner, but I . . . I can’t have too many people know, so . . . so I only do it when I think it’s safe to tell that person.”

“And . . . us doing scenes for a year and now dating for a few months didn’t make me safe beforehand?”

“Yeah . . . yeah. But. I just.” Barry sighed exasperatedly and tossed his hands in the air.

“It never came up.”

“Funny, I told you the same.”

Barry let out a breath and buried his face in his hands, but Len could see the nod even through that.

“Alright, I . . . you know I’m going to tell Mick this, right?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I know. I wouldn’t ask you to keep it a secret from him.”

Len nodded and slowly got up. He walked around the table and placed a peck on Barry’s temple.

“I’ll need a minute. I’ll be back.”

Before Barry could protest, he had walked out of the kitchen, tossed on his coat, and left the apartment. With shaking fingers, he unlocked his phone and opened his chat thread with Mick.

_Did you know I’m dating the Flash?_

It only took about a minute for a reply to come in.

 **Rory, Mick:** _Sometimes you’re so blind. Didn’t you check out the Doll’s jawline? Also, never any Flash sightings on Saturday afternoons? The hastily ended dates because he ‘forgot’ shit, and ten secs later there’s Flash somewhere? Not surprised._

 **Rory, Mick:** _Tell him I want pizza from that place in Star City for next trio night_.

 **Rory, Mick:** _To make up for not telling._

 **Rory, Mick:** _And don’t fuck it up, idiot._

Len chuckled and let his phone slide back into his pocket. Everyone thought that Len was the observant one, but Mick was the writer, the observer, the one who stayed in the background but saw everything.

As he walked through the streets, Len asked himself how much it mattered that Barry had held back with such a piece of information and whether that would affect their relationship. But really, he figured . . . maybe it wasn’t that different from Len, who hadn’t told him about Mick. It was an important part of Barry’s life, it must be, one that he wanted to protect. Needed to protect, even, so his identity and the people close to him would stay safe.

So Len would stay safe, he realised.

After an hour of rolling things around his head, though, it really was all quite clear. So he pulled out his phone again and opened the chat thread with Barry.

_So I hear you’re fast_

_How much travel time do I need to plan for a trip to Coast City for a date with my boyfriend?_

Fifteen seconds later, there was sand under his feet.

“So . . . we’re good?” Barry asked first thing, before the lighting around his form had even fully dissipated. Len smiled at him and then leaned in for a soft kiss.

“‘Would be hypocritical of me to get angry now, so, let’s . . . both try to get better at talking.”

“That sounds like a plan. And I’m sorry, still. I . . . yeah, I should have told you much earlier.”

“I don’t know . . . I don’t know. Maybe it’s good you didn’t. Who knows? But. I have questions.”

“Of course you do,” Barry murmured and rolled his eyes, but he was laughing as he did so.

“What do you want to know?”

  
  


***

  
  


After a day of walking around hand in hand on the beaches of Coast City, and asking Barry all the questions he could possibly think of about metahumans and the Flash (just like Barry had done with him about polyamory), they ended up in a nice Chinese restaurant just at the edges of a beach and decided this would be the perfect spot for a date night dinner.

Once inside and seated, Len reached out to take Barry’s hand in his own, smiling at him across the table.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, and Barry nodded, giving Len’s hand a little squeeze.

“Yeah, I am. It’s a good date weekend.”

“It is? Even though I panicked on you . . . twice?”

Barry chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, well, you were also pretty chill when finding out about my little secret identity, unlike me, when I found out about Mick. Also, it wasn’t bad. It brought us forward in our relationship . . . I hope.”

Len raised Barry’s hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. “I hope so too. You’re . . . you’re special, Barry.”

Barry blushed at that and allowed Len to kiss his hand before pulling it back with a little embarrassed laugh. “You’re such a charmer.”

“I mean it, though,” Len insisted, and with that, started a round of good-natured bickering that continued until they had their food in front of them.

“Oh, there’s something else you should know,” Barry told him through a bite of noodles. Len just raised an eyebrow as he took a bite of his own chicken and rice dish.

“I . . . kinda have a speedster metabolism, so I need a lot of food. Like . . . a lot.”

Len nodded, then took another bite that he took his time to chew before speaking again. “What’s a lot, in this case?”

“Um . . . like twenty servings of lasagna for dinner is a good way to keep me full for maybe an hour.”

“Twenty?” Len asked, and his voice sounded ridiculously incredulous even to his own ears.

“Yeah . . . yeah, Cisco once calculated how many calories I need in a day, and it’s . . . a lot. If I don’t get enough food, I get dizzy spells and stuff . . . you know, like someone else who’s underfed. Only that that happens a lot easier for me.” Len nodded; Barry had told him about the STAR Labs crew earlier today, so he’d heard of Cisco already.

“So . . . what did you eat all weekend, when you were with me the entire time?” Len had to wonder, he’d been with Barry all weekend, after all, and he hadn’t seen Barry put away obscene amounts of food.

“I might have . . . gone on a speedy food-spree whenever you were in the bathroom,” Barry admitted, and Len reached out to take his hand again.

“But . . . you won’t do that anymore now, will you? I know about you now, so you can eat openly . . . and all those things. You don’t need to hide anymore.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, and I’m really looking forward to that, too,” Barry nodded, then launched into another speedster story that had Len in stitches with how much he laughed. Those guys really seemed to have a lot of fun along with their adventuring. He’d need to ask Barry if they’d get introduced soon.


	7. Google it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of suspension.

On Monday, Len was feeling more than just a little sleepy as he entered City Hall and walked up to his office. He greeted Shawna, his secretary, and was surprised to see her only nodding coolly at him. They were usually quite friendly, so that puzzled him. But still, everyone had off days, so he didn’t think much of it.

But through the day, it continued. People were treating him pretty coldly, especially those who had opposed him being Mayor in the first place. He already dreaded the meeting he had scheduled later that day with the leader of the opposition, thinking that somehow, it would not go well. Santini had never liked him much, neither politically nor personally, and Len had to say he shared the sentiment.

During his lunch break, Santini was already waiting outside, but Len made a point out of not letting him come in early, and he passed the time by checking his phone.

**Allen, Barry:** _Oh my god, some people . . ._

**Allen, Barry:** _[rolling eyes emoji]_

**Allen, Barry:** _[twitter link]_

Curious, Len clicked on the link and found himself on Mick’s twitter page. Not his Rebecca Silver one, but his own, private one under his own name. He’d shared a tweet of none other than Santini himself, posting a picture of —

a picture of Len and Barry in the Chinese restaurant in Coast City the day before, sharing a kiss over dinner.

“ _Leonard Rory, Mayor of Central City, married to Mick Rory, spotted kissing another man—what should we make of the morality of a man who openly cheats on his husband?”_ read the tagline, and there were hundreds of comments already, cursing Len and wishing him everything from his husband finding out to a gruesome death.

Len sucked in a breath, shocked to find something so private displayed so openly, and under such false assumptions as well. He was just about to call Barry or Mick to try to not break down right before the meeting with the  _absolute ass_ who had dared to take a picture of him in a private moment and put that picture up onto social media. But then, Mick’s retweet caught his eye.

It was a picture of the three of them that they had taken on a trio night, with Len and Mick snuggled together and smiling at the camera and Barry kissing Len’s cheek. Len remembered it had been Barry who had insisted that they need selfies with the three of them, and then they’d spent the next fifteen minutes taking selfies on Mick’s phone until Barry was satisfied. Mick’s addition to the picture, though, was what made Len nearly burst out laughing.

_It’s called polyamory. Google it._

Len sent Mick as well as Barry a carefully selected choice of different heart emoji, then shut his phone off. Time to face the music.

  
  


***

  
  


The lead article of the Citizen the next day was called,  _It’s called polyamory. Google it_ . Barry grinned at Len and tapped the by-line. “Iris wrote that. My sister.”

  
  


***

  
  


“So . . . Mick and I have been talking,” Barry started, on a Saturday a few weeks later, after a stressful week of too much work and trying not to be overly smug at a still-sulking Mr. Santini, and attending one charity event with Mick, one with Barry, and one with Mick and Barry. They were official now, after all. Not by choice, but it couldn’t be changed anymore, so Len had figured he might as well officially introduce Barry as his boyfriend. The three of them had agreed that that would stay the only times that Mick and Barry would accompany Len. They all did value their privacy, after all.

“Talking . . . huh? About more than recipes?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, about more than recipes.”

Len took a sip of his wine and let himself slump sideways on the couch until he was leaning against Barry. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“We’ve been talking about kinks and how Mick doesn’t see the appeal and doesn’t really understand what’s intriguing about it, but he’s curious since we’re both so into it. So . . . he’s curious about joining us for a session. Not joining in, but more like . . . watching.”

“Mick? Mick, who thinks that fluffy padded handcuffs are kinky, wants to join us?” Len took another sip of his wine after hearing that. That was not what he had expected at all.

“Yeah, I thought . . . maybe something light, not too harsh or too heavy. He has this idea that kink is all about beating other people and being utterly degrading. Which can be nice, and there’s a time and place for that, but kink can also be so gentle and loving, especially BDSM. I said I’d bring it up to you. What do you think?”

Len hummed and looked down into his wineglass, swirling the contents around.

“Can I have a while to think about it?”

“Sure, it’s not like it’s a hurry. I just wanted to bring up the idea.” And with that, he leaned in and gave Len a soft kiss. “And don’t feel forced to agree if you’re not sure about it.”

It took him a while, and a conversation with Mick, but in the end, Len figured it couldn’t hurt. It had always been the only thing he hadn’t shared with Mick, his kinky side, while Len had never seen Mick’s sexy side. But maybe it was only fair, now that his kinky side was something he shared with Barry, that Mick grew curious and wanted to have a look.

An evening of discussion and planning with Barry later, they had settled on a date on which Mick would be invited, they’d set some ground rules Mick would have to adhere to, and they’d decided they would do a suspension scene. It had been ages since Barry had suspended him, and as soon as Barry brought up the idea, Len just couldn’t wait.

Coming to Barry’s house with Mick in tow for the second time felt vastly different from the first one, and Barry’s smile at both of them was definitely very different from the first time as well. He stepped aside to let them both in, then directed Len to stand on his mat for the time being.

“So . . . some ground rules, Mick, that we want you to adhere to. I’m going to lay them out for you, alright?”

Mick looked between the two of them, looking vaguely uncomfortable, but after a moment, he nodded. “I thought I wasn’t going to be part of your scene.”

“You won’t be an active part of our scene, but since you’re in the room with us, you will be a passive part of the scene, so there’re just a few things I need you to keep in mind. Nothing complicated, and you also don’t have to worry that I’ll try to make you do things you don’t want to. Alright?”

After a moment, Mick nodded again. “Alright, bring it on.”

“Okay.” Barry smiled at him, then looked at Len as well before turning back to Mick. They’d already discussed that from the moment they entered Barry’s house, Barry would do that talking, and Len was very glad to. He’d always had trouble speaking confidently about these things . . . he was much better at following the rules than at laying them out.

“So, first up: Our safeword is ‘lettuce.’ If, for any reason, you need things to stop—you feel uncomfortable with things, you can’t bear it, you need fresh air, you want to stop being part of the scene, whatever reason—you say ‘lettuce,’ and we’re done. The same goes for Len, the same goes for me. Any of us says ‘lettuce,’ the scene is over instantly.

“Secondly, I’m in charge. That doesn’t mean I’m going to try to boss you around, but as my sub, Len is my responsibility, and I can only take care of him if I’m in charge. That means if you’re sitting somewhere and I tell you to please sit somewhere else, you do so, so I can proceed with the scene as we need to. I’m not going to tell you anything that will directly involve you in our scene.

“Thirdly, as I mentioned before, Len is my responsibility as my sub. Since you will be a passive participant, not an active one, that means you are not to try to engage him. Maybe if we do something like this again, we can have a scene where that is possible, but for today’s scene, I want Len solely focused on me, so I can guide him, and I will know how to steer things in the right direction. I am aware that this might be hard for you, but that is the part of the scene. I might do things to Len you do not feel comfortable with, but I only do them because both he and I have agreed to them, and we are consenting to this. If he withdraws his consent, the scene will end, so you never need to worry about whether I am doing things to him that he does not want.

“Alright, those are the three important rules for you to keep in mind until the scene is over. Any questions?”

Barry was talking so confidently to Mick, laying out clearly what the rules were, but also being so caring again . . . taking into account Mick’s hesitancy and making it clear Len would not be harmed. Len already felt so cared for . . . so taken care of. He just had the best Master, really. The very best.

Mick was looking at Len for a moment, then back to Barry, before taking a deep breath and nodding. “So . . . I say lettuce and you stop, you’re in charge, and . . . Len is yours.”

Barry nodded, then gave Mick one of the gentle smiles he often had for Len during their scenes. “We chose something quite gentle for today, nothing harsh. We don’t want to scare you away, after all.”

Mick took a moment to glance at Len again, then nodded. “Okay. So . . . how’s this gonna go?”

“Alright. Thank you, Mick. We’re happy to have you with us tonight. And for starters, please go into the kitchen. There are some plates and glasses and some cookies, some juice. Would you be a dear and bring those into the living room through the other kitchen door? Meanwhile, I will be here with Len to get our scene started in the usual way. We agreed to keep that between the two of us.

“Once we come to join you in the living room, Len will be naked save for his underwear, and he will be wearing a collar. He won’t speak unless I explicitly ask him to. And then we’ll start.”

Mick nodded once more, then shuffled on the spot. He looked like he wanted to take a step towards Len, but then glanced at Barry. “Can I . . . say goodbye?”

“It’s not like there’ll be another person, Mick,” Barry chuckled but stepped aside to let Mick step over to Len. Len gave him a smile and then leaned in to kiss Mick on the cheek.

“Have fun, Mick.”

“Yeah . . . you too?”

At that, both Len and Barry chuckled, but Len gave him another kiss and a nod. “I will. Now shoo.”

Once Mick was in the kitchen and the door behind him was pulled almost closed, Barry turned to Len.

“Undress.”

Len eagerly nodded and started with pulling out his phone, wallet, and keys, placing them in their usual spot on Barry’s dresser before moving on to undressing. He felt a bit more on edge than usual but watching Barry stand there calmly, his collar in hand while he waited for him to undress, made him feel a bit more relaxed again.

Once he sunk to his knees in front of his Master, Master presented his collar with a smile, and Len all too happily tilted his head back to present his throat. As always, something settled in him as the heavy, thick leather closed around his neck, and it was like he was falling into the place the universe had designed for him. His place at Master’s feet, serving him and worshipping him.

As soon as the collar was fastened, he bent down, kissing Master’s feet, as he often did when he was feeling particularly grateful.

“Thank you, Master, for giving me this,” he murmured before realising he shouldn’t be speaking anymore. But Master, kind soul that he was, only smiled at him and crouched down so he was level with Len.

“You’re very welcome, my good boy,” he murmured and placed a chaste kiss on Len’s forehead. “Now, before I ask you for your safeword, there’re a few things I want you to keep in mind still, okay?”

Len nodded, eager to hear what his Master had to say to him.

“We’re not alone today for the first time ever, and it’s not a public setting like a BDSM club, but the person who’s joining us is very important to both of us. So it will feel different, but that won’t mean it will be bad. It might be that we’re both more nervous or more on edge. But I’m here for you, and I’ll do my best, as usual, to guide you safely through it, but don’t you ever feel afraid to call things off if you need to, alright?”

Len listened to his Master speak, and then nodded and leaned forward, hoping for another kiss. And even though he maybe hadn’t earned it yet, Master did grant him another kiss, and Len felt like the happiest sub on Earth again. Master was taking such good care of him . . . 

“Okay, then. Tell me your safeword,” Master instructed, rising to his full height again.

Len smiled at him, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was so excited about what was to come.

“‘Lettuce,’ Master.”

“Alright, darling, ‘lettuce.’ Now, remember you’re not to speak unless I ask you to, but you can make eye contact anytime you wish to or need to, alright?”

Once again, Len nodded his assent, and then Master opened the living room door and stepped through before waving Len inside after him.

Len carefully followed Master inside, and he knelt on the carpet as he waited for further instructions. The sofa table had been pushed to the side a bit, so it was standing next to the sofa instead of in front of it, and next to it was a ladder. Len wondered what the ladder was for, but he hadn’t been asked to speak, so he didn’t.

Mick was sitting in one of the armchairs, looking at Len with a lot of apprehension that Len knew he was trying to hide. Len gave him a little smile, trying to reassure him, then turned to Master just in time to see him step away from the door and walk to the space where the sofa table normally stood.

“Alright. Now, we’re going to do suspension today, which means I’ll tie Len here up, and then hang him from the ceiling, using these two hooks,” Master explained to Mick, and Len followed his finger as he pointed to two familiar hooks in the ceiling. They were strong enough to carry his weight, Len knew from experience. Mick still looked doubtful, but he’d just have to learn and see.

Master turned back to Len and waved him closer, then showed him the rope they would be using today. It was not the soft, red rope they’d both come to love, but a sturdier, rougher texture, which Len knew would leave lots of rope marks on his body but would also support him well.

“Now, darling, what do you say?” Master asked him, and Len eagerly leaned forward to press a kiss on the rope.

“Thank you, Master.”

“That’s a good boy. Now, watch me as I prepare.” And Len did watch; he saw Master climb up the ladder and thread the rope through the hooks, then he watched him test if they would carry a human’s weight (they would), and then he crawled over and knelt in front of Master again, ready to be tied up exactly like Master wanted.

“I picked out such a pretty pattern for you today, darling,” Master told him and leaned down to caress Len’s cheek. “I need you to stand for the start of it, though, alright?”

Len nodded, carefully climbing to his feet and allowing Master to push him to stand under the hooks, carefully positioned so he’d hang there as securely and as balanced as possible. Like this, Len was facing Mick, and he held eye contact with him while Master started to wrap him up in the first few loops of rope, just to set a foundation for the suspension.

After a few moments, Len looked away from Mick, and back to Master, to watch Master at work. He had secured Len in his spot and was now working on making sure he’d be securely hooked up. And then, he grinned at Len and grasped one of his legs, drawing the knee up to Len’s chest and looping the rope around it a few times so Len was unable to pull it back down. Watching Len balancing on one Leg, Master smiled and gave him a kiss on the nose, and then proceeded to grab Len’s arm and hold it up so he could tie it in place there.

Len belatedly realised that Master had never said that their quiet, gentle scene would end up with Len in a comfortable position. But Len was Master’s to do with as he pleased, so he simply closed his eyes after a while and let it happen. He let Master manipulate his body into the position Master wanted it in, and he didn’t even try to balance on his foot anymore, knowing that he was by now secure enough in Master’s bondage that he wouldn’t topple over.

“Blindfold coming,” Master informed him after a while, and Len kept his eyes closed, still relishing the darkness that the blindfold brought and the added sense of security that came with it. Now, he didn’t have to control his face or check where he was looking, but he could just concentrate on the feeling of Master drawing the ropes across his body, and nothing else. Nothing else was of importance . . . nothing else mattered, really.

In the end, he was stretched out from head to toe, one leg folded up against his stomach and secured there, the other barely hanging above the ground so that sometimes his toe would still touch the carpet. One arm stretched out above his head, held tightly by many loops of rope, the other arm twisted behind his back and secured there.

“Good boy,” Master whispered, and took Len’s face in his hands, always a sign that he was done with his bondage. “Give me a colour. How does it feel?”

Len hummed and tilted his head, allowing himself to consciously catalogue how his body felt. There was a lot of strain and a lot of tension, but nothing he couldn’t bear for a while. Nothing felt overly cut off, and he’d felt Master check every loop to make sure it wasn’t too tight, so it would be all right.

“Green, Master,” he murmured and received a soft kiss on the cheek for his trouble.

“Very well. You’re looking so pretty there. Such a beautiful view. Mick and I will enjoy it a lot, darling. So gorgeous.”

Len smiled at him, then listened to Master’s steps as they receded. He heard something being pulled over the carpet, something heavy, and a few moments later, he realised it must have been the side table.

“Want some tea?” he heard Master ask, followed by an affirmative grunt from Mick. “Here you go. And here, have some cookies, too. They’re some of Len’s favourites; he goes crazy for them every time.”

There was some clinking and clanking, which Len figured must be the plates and cups that Mick had brought into the living room earlier.

“So . . . what do we do now?” He heard Mick ask.

“Well, we sit here and enjoy the view for a while, see how he’ll do. It’s better than any Netflix show.”

There was a bit of silence, and Len tilted his head to the side, against his outstretched arm, and tried to allow his body to relax. He knew that now, Master liked to just let him hang there, watching him squirm as the tension and the strain got worse and worse, but he also knew he was safe here, wrapped up in Master’s bondage and cradled tightly in it, lovingly, as if it were Master’s arms around him.

“So, do you have any plans for tomorrow? I heard the weather is going to be great,” Master remarked after a while, but Len could almost feel that he was watching him instead of Mick while he spoke.

“Yeah. Gonna go to that new museum. You know Lenny’s a bit crazy; he wants to see the big diamond they have on show now.”

Len could hear Master chuckling, and he could almost see his amused face even through his blindfold. “Yeah, he mentioned he really wanted to see the new exhibition. So nice, though; it’s next to the park, so you can take a stroll there afterwards.”

“Yeah, Imma take him to the fancy place there for lunch. Now that the douche made it public, we can at least go out on dates and shit.”

“Well . . . at least that’s one good thing that comes out of that. But you wouldn’t believe how I’ve had people come to the precinct to ask for CSI Allen, and then they come and thank me because they learned so much about polyamory . . . which is weird, because I never said anything. But that’s better than hate mail, I guess.”

This time it was Mick’s turn to chuckle. “Well, as long as they don’t turn up because they want to thank the Flash for a rescue . . . Oh, did I tell you my next novel is a romance novel with superheroes?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t!” Master exclaimed, and from there, they launched into a conversation about Mick’s newest draft. He’d pulled heavily on things that Barry had explained to them, on time travel and other earths and a ton of things that neither Mick nor Len could really wrap their heads around, and Mick had woven it into a tale of star-crossed lovers on different earths, fighting to be allowed to be together. It was one of Mick’s best works so far, at least from the snippets Len had seen.

Len listened to them talk, heard them be completely engrossed in their conversation, completely tuned out of the room they were sitting in, and suddenly, he felt so alone.

He was there, strung up in front of his husband and his Master, facing them, and he could hear them paying no attention to him. It was as if he wasn’t in the room with them . . . as if they didn’t need him. He’d noticed they had started sharing looks that were often more than just friendly, and he honestly didn’t mind, he’d be happy if the two important people in his life would find their way to one another as well, but in this moment, it became all too much.

He felt alone and forgotten, and his leg felt like it was being pulled apart at the knee, and his arm felt like it was going to pop out of his shoulder, while his other arm was spasming with how awkwardly it was bound behind his back, and he didn’t have feeling anymore in the foot that was tied up so high that his knee almost hit his chin, and his torso was too stretched and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t move and he couldn’t be alone anymore and he didn’t want to be ignored and he wasn’t important and they’d drop him and he couldn’t — couldn’t—couldn’t —

“Le-Lettuce.”


	8. Poly, Take II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry, Mick, and Len deal with the fallout. Then, the triangle is closed.

Before he’d even finished stammering out the safeword, there were Master’s hands on his face, gently cupping his cheeks.

“I’m here, Len. I’m here, alright. We’ll stop. Can you tell me what you need, love?”

Len could feel himself shaking, needing to get out of the bonds, needing to  _move_ , but he just shook his head, unable to find the words.

“Okay. Okay, no problem. Take a deep breath, alright? Do you want me to take off the blindfold?”

Again, Len shook his head, even more frantically. He just needed  _out._

“Okay. I have the scissors here, and I’m going to start cutting you out of the ropes. Can you take deep breaths for me? We’ve done this before, okay? It will be a bit uncomfortable, but I’ll take you out of here quickly. You’re such a good boy, Lenny, I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so well. Hold still for me, alright?” As Master was talking to him, Len could feel the cold metal of the scissor blades on his skin, sliding under the loops of the ropes to cut them one by one. And somehow, Len had never felt so relieved to have a blade so close to his skin.

“What’s happening?” That was Mick, and he sounded very scared. Immediately, Len tensed even more and squirmed, trying to get _out_ , trying to get to Mick.

“Shh, Len, it’s alright. It’s alright, I’m working on it, you’ll be out of here soon. I promise, alright? And Mick, don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll explain in a minute, but I gotta take care of Len now.”

And then, he continued to cut the ropes that held Len, while also having an arm wrapped around him to stabilize and balance him. Once the last rope fell, Len felt Master immediately pull him into his arms, and he wrapped his own arms around Master, clinging to him as he cried.

“There we go. Oh, my poor darling, you were so good. Come on, let’s sit down, huh?” Len felt himself being guided backwards, away from the armchairs, but then Master pulled him down and they were sitting on the couch with Len in Master’s lap, cuddled up to him and held tightly, cradled lovingly and safely in the way that ropes would never do, and he buried his blindfolded face in Master’s neck and allowed himself to shake, allowed himself to sob out all the confusion and loneliness he felt.

“Mick, come join us on the couch? It will be good if you are close, too,” he heard Master say and nodded, even though he wasn’t sure if anyone would notice it. “Lenny is nodding, so come on over.”

Len sniffled a bit but couldn’t hold back a tiny smile at the thought of Master knowing him well enough to realise that he’d been nodding and knew that he wanted Mick close, even though he was fully enclosed in Master’s arms and didn’t want to go anywhere yet.

The sofa dipped with Mick’s weight, and Len felt himself fractionally relax.

“Can you say what set you off yet, what made you uncomfortable?” Master asked, running a hand over Len’s head as he did so, and Len started crying anew at how caring and gentle and loving his Master was. He shook his head though, not feeling up to anything but clinging to Master yet and waiting for his wave of panic to subside so he’d feel up to facing the world again.

“That’s alright, darling. Take your time, there’s no need to rush. You’re safe here, and I’ve got you. Nothing can happen to you here. I’m here for you, just like Mick.”

There was a bit of silence again, where Len just listened to Master’s breathing and concentrated on the feeling of Master’s arms around him.

“Is it okay if I explain to Mick what just happened, darling?” Master asked him after a while. Len took a moment to explore how he was feeling but eventually nodded. He wanted all of Master’s attention focused on himself, but he also had a feeling that Mick was very on edge, and Mick deserved to be comfortable too. And he could stay right here in Master’s arms, snuggled up to him and hidden from the world, and he would hear Master’s voice, too.

“Alright, thank you, love. Okay, so. What just happened . . . we call it a subdrop. It’s when the sub, so the submissive in a scene, is in what we call subspace, which is a very special headspace where submission feels very good, and where the actions in a scene can cause a sense of euphoria, or a sort of floating daze that’s unlike any other. But in this subspace, people are very vulnerable. They have all their barriers down, and they are open for all sorts of input from their Dom, and then it’s always a balance to keep between pushing the sub down enough to get into that nice, floaty space, but not so far down that they fall out of it again. If that happens, we call it a subdrop. It’s almost like . . . it’s often like a panic attack that comes crashing into them. 

“Sometimes there’s a longer onset, where an observant Dominant can see it coming and still steer it away. But sometimes, like just now, it comes seemingly out of nothing. It happens, it’s a risk you take every time you enter a scene, but it’s been a while since we’ve been there . . . But we’re also with an audience for the first time, so maybe that made Len, or maybe it made both of us even more vulnerable. I don’t know . . . an important thing is that later, after we’ve both calmed down, we’ll talk about what happened . . . what set him off, what we can do to prevent it from happening again. But most importantly is always reassurance. Letting him know that he’s safe and loved and such a very good boy. And you are, Len. You’re my sweet darling, and I’m so, so happy to have you. I hope you know that.”

Len smiled as he felt Master’s lips on his temple and nodded. Despite his panic and his momentary feeling of abandonment, he did know that both of these men cared deeply about him and that none of what had crossed his mind in that moment had really been true. He didn’t feel up to talking yet or even taking off his blindfold, but he did reach behind himself, to where he realised Mick must be sitting, and stretched out his hand to reach for him.

Within moments, there was a warm weight draped over his back, and Mick’s strong arms were wrapped around him, holding him just as closely and safely as Barry’s did. He let out a little hum and let one arm slide down from where I had been wrapped around Barry to hold on to Mick’s arm instead.

“I think someone has found out about the perks of trio cuddles,” Barry chuckled.

“This okay?” Mick asked, and Len found himself nodding again. He hoped they wouldn’t crush Barry like this, but for now, he didn’t complain, so Len would bask in this for a while and be happy to be snuggled up with both of his partners.

“So, this subdrop thing . . . it happened because I was here?”

“I don’t know yet, and I’m not going to make any assumptions. We’ll just make sure Len is feeling better again, and then we can talk about it in a bit over some tea and cookies. We saved you the prettiest ones, Len. The especially light ones; I know you like those best.

“Mm . . . thank you,” Len mumbled, unsure if he’d be comprehensible like this, but from Barry’s warm laugh, he realised he must be.

“You’re welcome, darling.”

“It’s weird, especially since it didn’t go right, but . . . it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was,” Len heard Mick say. “It was . . . I don’t want it, for me, but I could see you were both into it, and that you liked it, and it was like . . .” There was a pause, and Len could see Mick in his mind’s eye, searching for words. Being an author had made him much better with words, but sometimes he still just couldn’t find them. “It was like . . . it was good for you, and right.”

“I’m glad you came to watch, Mick,” Barry replied. “Not because I want to rope you into it or anything, but . . . I don’t know, I think it’s good to understand what we’re doing? I wouldn’t want you to think I was hurting or abusing Len, and somehow that’s what a lot of people mistakenly think, and I just want you to know that that’s not the case.”

“No, I can see that it’s not. I can see that it’s just another way to express your affection and to have a good time together. Maybe . . . maybe we can repeat this, with a better ending?”

“I mean . . . I would be up for it; we’ll have to ask Lenny later.”

“. . . Yeah.”

“. . . Yeah.”

Len frowned, unsure what was going on, when he felt Barry flinch back a little.

“Not now, Mick.”

“. . . Sorry.”

“Wha—?” Len mumbled, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“Nothing to worry about, darling. Just something to talk about later, when you’re feeling better. How do you feel about taking off that blindfold yet?”

Len considered it for a while but eventually nodded. Yeah, he was feeling good enough to get rid of it now.

“Alright. Can you push yourself up a little, then I can reach it? And keep your eyes closed, yeah, so you won’t be immediately blinded.”

Len pulled back from Barry a little and allowed Barry’s nimble fingers to undo the blindfold, but he kept his eyes closed, knowing that he’d need to get used to the light again bit by bit.

Eventually, though, he blinked his eyes open and was met with Barry’s blinding smile. “There you are. Hello, love.”

Instead of answering, Len leaned down to give his beloved Master a kiss, which Barry happily returned.

About half an hour later, they were all sitting up on the couch, Len snuggled in between Mick and Barry, with a plate of Barry’s to-die-for cookies on his lap and a big mug of tea in his hands.

“I felt like . . . I felt like I was all alone . . . like you were ignoring me, and didn’t need me,” he mumbled around a cookie, trying to put into words what he had been feeling when his panic had set in.

Barry nodded, obviously thinking it through. “Hm, I thought the blindfold might help you feel more settled, and help you not get distracted by an unfamiliar environment, but maybe it was more hindering in this case . . . you couldn’t see that Mick was looking at you the entire time. He barely even glanced at the cookies, let alone me. There was no way he was ignoring you . . . or that I was, but you couldn’t see it . . .”

“Really?” Len murmured, and Barry nodded with a smile in Mick’s direction.

“Yeah, really.”

Len carefully turned around so he could look at Mick, then leaned in to give his husband a gentle kiss. “Thank you. I love you, Mick.”

“Love ya too, boss,” Mick murmured after he’d kissed him back. They shared a smile, and then Len turned back to Barry to give him a kiss as well.

“And I love you, too,” Len confessed, causing Barry to smile brighter than the sun.

“And I love you, Lenny.”

Later, when they were sitting at the kitchen table over dinner, Len still snuggled into Barry’s side as he ate the gorgeous stew that Mick had made, he noticed Mick and Barry sharing some odd looks.

“What’s up?” he asked them, and Mick quickly looked away, stirring his stew in an obvious display of pretending that everything was normal.

“Mick was very forward earlier, at a time when . . . it was just not right,” Barry explained, watching Mick with a fond smile.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“So . . . you were still in subspace and recovering from that panic attack and your husband here tried to kiss me.”

“You tried to kiss Barry?” Len asked, sitting up straight and looking over at Mick.

“I . . . yeah.” Mick shrugged, continuing to stare at his bowl.

“And you . . . didn’t want that?” Len turned back to Barry, who blushed and also stared into his bowl as if it held the answers to all the questions in the universe.

“No . . . not necessarily that.”

“But?”

“But . . . you were half passed out from panic, and still in subspace and that’s . . . that’s something we should discuss before . . . with you. And not while you’re recovering from subdrop and can’t even see what’s going on.”

Len nodded, then looked at Mick again for a moment before leaning over and poking him with his spoon. “Alright. Come around the table then, it’s kissing time.”

“You sure, boss?”

“Am I sure I’d be happy to see my husband and my boyfriend kiss? What kind of question is that?”

“Well, some people wouldn’t,” Barry threw in, then stood and met Mick halfway around the table, and Len watched as Mick pulled him into a deep kiss and Barry gave back as good as he got.

He was pretty sure there was some tongue involved too. Yuck.

“You know you’ll get as much sex from me as you’ll get from Len, right?” Barry asked him when they pulled apart, and Len knew what Mick was going to say even before he said it.

“‘Prefer sex with strangers, anyway.”

“How so?” Barry asked and pulled him down into the free chair so Barry ended up in the middle, able to hold hands with both of them. Apparently, that was more important than food to him right now. But then, Len reasoned, he could always still speed-eat the bowl of soup (or twenty) before it got cold.

“‘Doesn’t mix sex and emotions . . . emotions are for special people only,” Mick explained, earning himself another kiss.

“I have emotions for you too, Mick.”

  
  



	9. Feed the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for Len and Mick to meet the family.

When the door swung open, Len was greeted by the sight of a man he’d never seen before, with shoulder-length black hair that looked amazing, and one glance at his shirt revealed that apparently, this guy had great taste in nerdy t-shirts.

“Uh, Barry?” Black-hair-with-nerd-shirt called. “There are two guys at the door!”

“Yeah, let them in!” Barry called back from somewhere in the depths of the house. “A few more guests are coming!”

Len tried not to roll his eyes and put on a friendly face. This was Barry’s summer party, after all, so this guy must be one of Barry’s friends. Len hadn’t initially wanted to come, considering Lisa had also asked him to come to a party to meet her new boyfriend for the first time. Apparently, her boyfriend’s best friend was having a barbecue, but Len had already told Barry that they were coming. He’d seriously considered cancelling on him; Lisa never officially introduced her boyfriends to him, so this guy . . . he must be serious.

“Yeah. Only . . . you didn’t say Mayor Rory was coming with an angry-looking dude in tow!” Black-hair-with-nerd-shirt called, and then Barry showed up from the direction of the kitchen, hands still covered in barbecue sauce.

“Oh! Hi, Len! Hi, Mick! Come in!” He waved them inside, then shouldered Black-hair-with-nerd-shirt aside to give them both a hands-free kiss.

“Cisco, those are my boyfriends. Leonard Rory and Mick Rory, who probably only looks angry because he can smell food but can’t eat it yet. Len, Mick, this is my best friend, Cisco.” With that, he nodded his head at Black-hair-with-nerd-shirt, and Len held out his hand.

“A pleasure.”

His hand was taken into a surprisingly strong grip, and Cisco grinned. “Hi, um . . . Mister . . . Rory?”

“Len’s just fine, ‘s a fuckin’ barbecue,” Mick grumbled from behind Len, looking like storm clouds were brewing over his head.

“Mick, why don’t you go bring Barry the casserole we brought,” he suggested and pushed Mick in the direction of the kitchen, where Barry was already waiting to exchange the sandwich he was holding for the casserole. A well-fed Mick was a happy Mick; he’d learned that within two weeks of knowing Mick.

“He’s right, though, Len’s just fine,” he told Cisco once Mick had disappeared into the kitchen, lured in by sandwiches and other foods.

Cisco just nodded mutely and went ahead to open the door to the living room, where an array of people were already sitting and munching on appetizers. None of them were anyone Len knew, but from the way they looked at him, they all immediately realized who he must be. Perks of being the mayor . . . or downsides, however you wanted to look at it.

He looked around the room, then blinked when he did spot a familiar face. The only one who hadn’t been staring at him, seemingly engrossed in telling another lady a story. Len grinned and immediately walked over to her.

“Hey, Lise.”

Lisa shot up and turned around, then threw her arms around Len. “You made it after all! I thought you’d rather go to your new boy.”

“Barry’s not that new anymore, and he’s right there in the kitchen, so . . . the world is small?”

Lisa chuckled and looped an arm through his, then pulled him back down. “Barry, huh? I guess he’s sweet enough for you, and he seems to get on with Mick as well . . . I heard you grew into a proper trio now, huh? Mick said he and Barry are also a thing now.”

Len rolled his eyes but allowed Lisa to manhandle him around. “That’s none of your business, you trainwreck,” he told her much too fondly, and she chuckled.

“Love you too, jerk.”

“So, uh, I’ve never seen Lisa hug another person, so . . . who are you?” Cisco was standing in front of them now, looking very confused.

“You already know who I am, so why do you care?” Len gave back, wondering what the hell nerd shirt dude was going at.

“Boys . . . be nice. Cisco, this is my brother Lenny. Lenny, Cisco’s my boyfriend.”

“You . . . wait, Barry and I are dating siblings?”

Lisa grinned, then reached out to pull Cisco into her lap before giving him a kiss that was definitely too deep to be appropriate for a barbecue.

“Apparently you do, sweetie,” she purred, and Len shook his head.

“Don’t break him, sis,” he chuckled, then grabbed Cisco by the collar and pulled him close, so they were nose to nose.

“You hurt my sister, I’ll make your life hell. You got that?”

Cisco stared at him with wide eyes and nodded, suddenly looking properly frightened. Barry chose that moment to show up, though, and pulled Len back so he could sit next to him and cuddle up to him. “Why do you look like you’re trying to scare Cisco?”

“Just giving him a shovel talk,” Len explained, causing Barry to frown.

“Shovel talk? You know Lisa or something?”

“Yeah . . . meet my sister, Lisa.”

Barry tilted his head and regarded Lisa for a bit, then burst out laughing. “Cisco, we’re dating siblings!”

Len rolled his eyes at that but let them have their fun. Soon after, Mick joined them as well, and Cisco seemed to get over his apprehension for Mick when Mick basically shoved a piece of cake at him.

“Hey, Lise,” Mick grumbled and squeezed himself in between Len and Lisa. “Nerdy guy your new boytoy?”

“Boyfriend,” Lisa corrected him, and Mick gave Cisco a once-over, then grunted. “You better be a keeper, then.”

  
  


***

  
  


Later, when all three of them were snuggled up in Barry’s much too small bed, Len let the events of the evening replay in his head. He was glad he’d finally met Barry’s family and his closest friends. Cisco had been nice, once he’d gotten over his fear of Mick, and so had Caitlin. She and Mick seemed to have an instant connection, and Len would not be surprised if Mick would go out on a date with her sometime. No matter how much he always said he didn’t need the emotional connection to his sexual partners, he did like to genuinely click with the people he took to bed. Len decided he didn’t like Harrison Wells particularly much; the guy rubbed him the wrong way. But of course, he wouldn’t say anything to Barry. Barry seemed to adore his mentor . . . and really, maybe the guy was alright, just like Mick, who tended to rub people the wrong way, but was the best choice of husband Len could ever have made.

And then there had been Joe and Iris, Barry’s adoptive father and his sister. Iris had immediately drawn him into a hug and pulled him into a conversation, clearly eager to get to know her brother’s partners. And then later, in the kitchen, while they were refilling glasses for just about everyone, she’d given both of them a hefty shovel talk. And somehow, in that moment, she’d reminded him a lot of Lisa. Always dolled up with perfect makeup, hair nicely done, always wearing stiletto heels . . . and hiding a whole damn lot of badass under a shell of charming personality. With the way she’d spoken to them, neither he nor Mick had any doubts that Iris West would absolutely destroy them if they so much as broke a hair on Barry’s head. And somehow, that only made Len happier, to know that Barry had such an amazing, caring sister, who loved him very much and was willing to stand up for him. They may not be related by blood, but they clearly were all that brother and sister could aspire to be.

And Joe . . . he clearly cared for Barry as well, that much Len could see. Just like Len, he seemed to be wary of Dr. Wells, but otherwise seemed to be much more integrated into the group’s shenanigans than Len would have expected from a parental figure, but once he learned that Joe was also part of what they considered “Team Flash,” it all made more sense.

Len idly wondered if he and Mick would also be considered part of Team Flash one day. He hadn’t told Barry about their wayward youth in detail or about how they’d actually gotten to know each other in juvie before helping each other onto a straight path afterwards, making a conscious effort to break away from their criminal environments to start a new life, one where they could raise Lisa without fear and without being on the run. Barry only knew that because Lewis had been in jail for years and years, Len and Mick had basically raised Lisa, and that they’d both done a stint in juvie before getting their lives back on track.

Ironically, his conflicts with the law during his youth, followed by him showing he could be better than his criminal past, had helped Len during his campaign for mayor. Somehow, people trusted Len could actually do something about the crime rate in the city because they knew he had been involved in that scene himself and could see he had become a different, better person. And so far, things weren’t looking too shabby. Especially with the help of the Flash, crime rates were drastically dropping these days.

He and Joe had talked a bit about police politics, polite small talk between a mayor and a police detective, before Lisa had dropped the bomb that Mick was, in fact, the man behind the Rebecca Silver books, and everyone had gone crazy for Mick. He’d been a bit overwhelmed with all the attention, but in the end, he’d handled it just fine, sharing some stories and also some details of the book he was currently writing that was supposed to come out early the next year. Len was pretty sure that they’d need to keep a spreadsheet, but somehow Mick had promised them all hand-signed copies of his next book, and even Barry, who had the same draft-reading privileges as Len by now, had looked very pleased by the prospect.

“Barry?” Len asked, knowing that Barry was not asleep yet, unlike Mick, who was snoring merrily, back turned to them and squashed between the wall and Len.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something . . . about your family?”

Barry, who’d also had his back turned to Len, shuffled around at that so they were chest to chest, pressed together and still with Barry in danger of falling off.

“Sure.”

“So . . . do you know what happened to your parents? You always say Joe is your adoptive father, so I wonder . . . did you know them?”

Barry sighed at that but nodded. “Yeah, it’s . . . it’s this story that . . . no one usually believes me. But you know about me being Flash, so . . . yeah.”

“Okay?” Len didn’t really know what to make of that, but he’d asked now, so he was determined to hear the answer, no matter what shape or form it took.

“So . . . I lived with my parents until I was eleven. And then, on Halloween . . . I was in bed already, but I woke up because something was weird, and I went downstairs to see what was going on . . . and I saw my mother getting murdered. She was stabbed by a man . . . for a long time, I just called him the man in the yellow lightning. Now I know that . . . his name’s Eobard Thawne, and he’s a speedster, just like me. But a speedster from the future, and he came back to kill me . . . and ended up killing my mother instead.

“No one believed me when I said what I had seen, and they arrested my father for murdering her . . . found him guilty, and he’s in Iron Heights now, serving a life sentence . . . for something he never did.

“I was best friends with Iris at that point already, and Joe was there that night, on duty, and he took me home. Fostered me for a while, more or less under the radar, until there was noise about putting me into the system . . . so we talked about it, and he assured me he didn’t want to take me away from my dad but wanted to make sure I was in a safe place, a good place. So I agreed, and he adopted me before I could go into the system.

“He’s a great dad, really. He used to think the man in yellow lighting was a construct of my traumatized mind, but he always did believe me when I said my dad was innocent. He used to take me to Iron Heights once a week to see my dad before I could go there myself.”

Barry closed his eyes and leaned into Len, snuggling even closer to him. And Len wrapped his arms around him and held him, unsure what he should say in response to something like that . . . what there even was to say.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Barry,” he murmured in the end, almost whispered it into Barry’s hair.

“I’m okay now, most days . . . it’s been a while. But it’s not something you ever truly get over. And to know that her killer is still walking free . . . it makes me so angry sometimes.”

Len nodded, knowing he would feel the same way if Lewis was ever set free again, after what he’d done to Lisa. What he’d done to Len, too, but he’d never valued himself as much as his sister.

“Well, if things ever come to a head and you need support . . . Both Mick and I know how to shoot guns and let me tell you, we’d both go all out to make sure you are safe, Barry.”

Barry chuckled at that, and Len tilted his head, curious as to why this was apparently a funny statement.

“Cisco has been working on these two special guns. One shoots a stream of ice that reaches absolute zero, and the other is a gun that shoots fire, but we haven’t found anyone yet that might be able to wield those . . . or that we would trust to do so. Who knows, maybe we’ll invite you two for a test round at some point . . . to see if you’re the ones.”

“Oh, dear. Don’t let Mick know before you’re fully sure. He’ll be heartbroken if he learns about a fire-shooting gun that he’s not allowed to touch.”

“Exactly. That’s why I haven’t told you guys before. And . . . Len?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For asking. And for being here.”

“Of course, Barry. Of course.”

  
  



	10. Drip Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of waxplay has never hurt anyone.

The barbecue had been a full success, and somehow Len felt lighter, now that he’d met Barry’s friends and family. It felt more real, somehow, what they had. More serious. He was pretty sure not all of them understood the concept of polyamory, but they’d all been accepting, so that had been nice.

But now, a week later, Barry’s living room was relatively empty again, and Len was lying stretched out on his stomach on his green sofa. The backrest cushions had been removed, and the seats had been covered in old towels, on which Len was stretched out now, once more clad in nothing but his boxers. He was missing the collar today, though, as they had decided to take a different approach this time.

They’d all agreed they wanted to give it another try, to have Mick with them for a scene again. But this time, they’d discussed it with the three of them, and they’d agreed to not have a scene where Len would dive deep down into subspace. So now he was here, sans collar, watching Barry and Mick light two candles. Two purple-waxed, specially made BDSM candles. Barry had insisted that they wouldn’t use normal candles, and Len had greatly appreciated it. After two minutes of research, Mick had agreed.

“So . . . how do we do this?”

“We hold the candles above Len’s skin, about a handspan above his back, and then we’ll slowly drip wax on him. Only in single drops first, not a whole puddle, we don’t want to burn him.” Barry turned to Len and showed him the burning candle, where a little melted wax was already pooling at the top.

“Ready, Len?”

“Ready,” Len nodded, but Mick was still frowning.

“What about the safeword thing?”

Before Barry could explain, Len pushed himself up on his elbows and turned around enough to look at Mick. “The safeword is for settings where a ‘no’ or a ‘stop’ will go ignored. Now we’re doing something very soft, without much of a power imbalance, so if I tell you to stop, you’ll stop. No safewords needed.”

“Exactly that, yeah,” Barry smiled and kissed Len’s nose. “Now come on, lay down again. Tell us if it’s too hot.”

“Can’t believe I’m letting you drip wax on me,” Len grumbled but lay back down again, presenting his back to be decorated with hot wax.

“I can’t believe that with Mick’s obsession with fire you guys never even tried out a massage candle.”

“Massage candle?” Mick asked, and Barry chuckled.

“A candle where the wax turns to massage oil when the candle is lit. It melts at a very low temperature, so you can use it to give nice, warmed massages.”

Len didn’t even have to turn around to see Mick’s big eyes.

“Boss. On anniversary night this year, we’re doing a candle massage.”

“We’ll turn you into a fellow kinkster yet,” Len chuckled but nodded. “Barry, can you give us a nice massage candle for Anniversary Night this year?”

“I’ll find you the best one,” Barry agreed, then raised his candle to hover over Len’s back.

“Now . . . let’s start?”

“Let’s start,” Len agreed, pillowing his chin on his arms.

“Alright, I’ll go first. Mick will join in in a bit, yeah? Now . . . I’ll drip the first drops on you.”

Len closed his eyes and prepared himself, and yet the startled at the sharp heat that spread through his skin as the first drop hit him. He could feel it solidify almost immediately, but the next drop had already fallen. It was a weird feeling . . . strange, because it felt like hot liquid at first, then hardened and stuck to his skin, where it felt . . . waxy, for lack of a better word, and it still had a presence there. It wasn’t forgotten, even though it was cooling rapidly.

Barry was dripping a line down his back, slowly but surely, and Len closed his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of the hot wax on his skin, feeling like it would burn him but never actually getting close to causing harm. It was like a mini rush every time a drop hit him, every time he felt the fear that maybe this time, he would get burned, even though he knew it wouldn't happen. It was a heady feeling, and Len liked it more than he would admit out loud. He’d always claimed he was more one for the cold, and he and Barry had done plenty of things that involved ice cubes . . . but not yet something involving heat.

Just as he’d started to settle into it, to anticipate the drops that were coming, slowly wandering down his spike, there was a drop just above the dip in the small of his back, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, reveling in the feeling of the unknown, of having two people drip wax on him now.

“How is it?” Barry asked him after a few more moments, and Len nodded, tilting his head to the side as if to look at Barry even though he still had his eyes closed.

“I like it. It’s intense. But a good intense. It’s good.”

“Good. That’s very good. How are you doing, Mick?”

“Get to play with fire and with Lenny . . . what’s not to like?”

“I tell you, Len, in a few months, he’ll be down in kink hell with us.”

“Nah. This is fine, and watching you with the ropes was fine, but you whip out handcuffs, and I’m out.”

“Yeah, I know, Mick. I was just teasing.” Len could hear Barry giving Mick a kiss, and then there was a drop of hot wax on his shoulder, making him hiss in surprise. Within seconds, the wax was cooled again, and Len let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

“Sorry about that,” Barry told him, not sounding sorry at all. Len mentally gave him the middle finger. He hissed again a few moments later when there suddenly was a pool of wax on his lower back, feeling a lot hotter and a lot more present than the single drops of wax he’d gotten so far.

“Crap.” That was Mick, who sounded a bit frantic. Len winced but tried to stay still, not wanting to upset Mick by making him think that he’d done something terrible.

“Oh, dear. Here, do this.” The hand that appeared on his lower back was Barry’s, and he pressed his hand to Len’s skin and smeared the pool of liquid wax out into a bigger circle, so it hardened and cooled almost immediately. “Len, you alright?”

Len gave himself a moment to breathe, then nodded. “Yeah, just a bit surprised. All good.”

“Alright. Mick, make sure to hold the candle a bit higher, so the wax will cool a bit more while it drips. And things happen, but if you pour out too much wax, spreading it out will keep it from feeling too hot. And don’t worry, this wax won’t be able to really burn Len’s skin; that’s why we have the special BDSM candle.”

Len smiled to himself, listening to Barry calm Mick down and explain things to him. Len trusted Barry so much with this, with his safety and his wellbeing during scenes. He knew that Barry always read up on whatever he planned to do, that he was always well-informed about safety measures, about potential hazards and ways to keep safe, what to watch out for, and which aspects might be especially straining on the sub. He had no doubt that Barry had carefully read the instruction manual on the candle and checked several different BDSM sites to learn the best way to go about this and cross-reference tips and warnings. Sometimes, he’d share his findings with Len before they went into a scene, as part of their scene discussion or right at the start, and sometimes he didn’t, when he wanted to keep the element of surprise on his side. But Len never felt unsafe and always knew that Barry had taken all the safety measures necessary.

He rested his head back on his arms, facing forward, and immersed himself into the play of hot wax on his back. Both Mick and Barry were being a bit more careful again now, the drops of wax cooler on his skin and coming down more spaced apart as Barry (presumably) showed Mick how to most safely drip down wax on Len.

He let himself drift a bit, feeling comfortable and warm and taken care of, and weirdly enough, protected from any harm that might happen to him. Barry always protected him. After all, Barry would never let harm come to him. And if something did happen, like a panic attack, then Barry would always make sure to remove Len from the situation as fast as he could.

As fast as he could. Huh.

“Barry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Last time . . . when I panicked . . . you cut me out of the ropes, right?”

“Yeah, I did. Unwinding them would have taken too long in the state you were in.”

Len nodded. They’d always said that if there was an emergency, they would cut the ropes, after all.

“Yeah. But . . . why did you do it at normal speed? You could have flashed me out of there?”

Mick’s candle continued dripping wax on Len’s back, but Barry’s candle had stopped, he noted.

“I’d only ever taken you to Coast City before . . . you weren’t really accustomed to me flashing about yet, hadn’t really seen much of it, felt much of it. I didn’t want to scare you more by suddenly flashing you out of there and onto the sofa when you were expecting to be cut out normally. And you were too panicky already to ask you if it was okay. So I figured that would be the best way to go . . .”

Huh. That actually made a lot of sense.

“You’re the best, you know that. Always thinking about what would be best for me, how I’ll react.”

“Of course, Len. That’s literally my job as your Dom.”

“As long as you don’t see it as a job . . .”

“You know I don’t,” Barry told him, and then Barry’s lips were on his cheek.

“Now, I think we need to up the intensity a bit, if you’re hanging out here, thinking about Lord knows what . . . how’s that sound?”

Len nodded, even though this nice, comfortable setting was also nothing to scoff at. But Barry was right, he always liked to be taken to the edge of what he could bear in a scene, and Barry always knew just how to get him there.

The next drop from Barry’s candle was significantly hotter again, making him hiss and try to curl away from the heat of the wax, only for the next drop to land a bit lower on his back, and the next one a bit lower again.

“Look, I’m going to move here, in this line, you should make a line there,” Barry explained to Mick, and Len could only assume that he was pointing at areas on his back while he spoke.

And then, they both started dripping a hot trail of wax on his skin, Barry moving down on the left side of his spine, and Mick moving up on the right side of it. Within moments, Len was hissing and panting as the drops of wax seemed to get hotter and hotter and more and more intense as the two lines closed in on one another. Sometimes, the wax would fall on other drops of wax that had already dried, and that was a wholly different but equally weird feeling. At this point, Len was squirming under the hot wax, as it would only cool and harden after several more drops had already been placed, leaving him with several burning hot bursts of heat at once on his skin.

The lines of Mick’s candle and of Barry’s candle crossed then, leaving hot pools of melted wax on either side of his spine, and then they continued on, right next to the line where the other candle had been just moments before, where Len could still feel the heat bleeding from the wax into his skin. He pulled a face but held himself still, only allowing himself the occasional hiss as the heat in his skin built and built and built and -

“I think I’ve had enough now.” That was Mick’s voice, and immediately, both candles stopped dripping.

“Yeah? Alright. Len?” Barry sounded so calm and collected, and so very gentle with them, Len just loved this side of him so much. Not that he didn’t love Barry’s other sides . . . but that was a story for another day.

“Could have gotten a bit further . . . but I guess if Mick is getting _cold_ feet . . .”

“Okay, you could definitely have gone further if you’re still making puns, but then we’ll stop here,” Barry chuckled. “Mick, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just . . . I don’t know . . . Don’t feel like it anymore.”

“That’s fine, of course. We’ll stop, then, and move on to the cuddly side of things. Blow out your candle and put it down on that saucer, will you? Len, do you want a picture of your back?”

“Yes, please!” Len nodded, making sure not to move just yet as Barry grabbed his phone and took a picture of Len’s back on it.

“It’s beautiful! Not that you ever look not beautiful . . . but you know what I mean.”

Barry’s legs appeared next to him, and then he crouched down so he could look Len in the eye. “How are you feeling, Len?”

“I’m feeling good. Feeling a bit hot on my back . . . and it starts feeling a bit gross now that it’s all hard . . . but good.”

“Alright. How about this, you stay here for a few more minutes so it’s all hardened, and then Mick and I will chip off most of the wax onto the towels, and then we’ll go take a shower together to wash it off? We can soap your back up nicely and use a squeegee to scrub off all the wax remains. And that way, we’ll also see if your skin is irritated in any places.”

“Shower with the three of us?” Mick asked, doubtfully looking into the direction of Barry’s bathroom.

“I’ll have you know my shower is a lot more trio-sized than my bed is,” Barry defended, and Len chuckled.

“Yeah, Mick, it really is. So that sounds like a good plan.”

He was just about to ask for some water in the meantime while they continued waiting for the wax to dry completely when a cup with a straw appeared in front of his face. “Here, you should drink something first.”

And somehow, beyond all the other things, it was small things like this that made Len so sure that Barry really was the Dom for him, that he wanted to be with exclusively, and that he never wanted to lose. Barry was so caring, even in the little things. He always had some water close by, always offered it to Len, always had a snack at the ready, always remembered to wrap Len up in a blanket when he was drifting, as he would get cold otherwise . . . He was just so amazing.

Len gratefully took deep sips out of the cup, smiling as he realised Barry had even put a bit of lemon juice in the water, just like he liked it best.

“Mick? Here, you should also have some,” Barry smiled as Len had finished drinking, and held out a second cup to Mick, also fitted with a straw and with a lemon slice swimming in it. Len turned his head enough to see Mick take it and also start to drink from it. He didn’t say as much, but Len could see that he was just as grateful as Len for those little details that spoke loudly of Barry’s care. And Len was happy to see that Mick was just as included in Barry’s care as he was, for that matter.

Once Barry determined that enough time had passed, Mick and Barry started to gently chip the hardened wax off Len’s skin, making him feel like he was getting a luxurious spa massage, even though it tickled weirdly to feel the little plates of wax being lifted off his skin. Once his skin was as clean as it was going to get from just chipping away at the wax, Barry grabbed another towel and rubbed his back down. And then, while Mick went and brought Len up to the bathroom already, Barry went to dispose of all the wax that had fallen onto the towels that Len had lain on. Underneath, Barry’s sofa was still spotless.

By the time Barry joined them in the bathroom, Mick and Len were naked already, and Mick was peering into Barry’s shower. “You weren’t kidding when you said this was big enough.”

“Yeah. Maybe the previous owner liked shower sex a lot or whatever . . . it was already in here, and I wasn’t going to complain about it, so . . .”

Len chuckled and stepped inside, starting to let the water run so it could come up to temperature. Mick joined him just a few moments later, and then Barry stepped in as well, closing the door behind him. It was cramped . . . but it certainly wasn’t impossible to be in here with three people.

Len turned around so the water was pouring on his back and slowly let his eyes travel down Barry’s body. “Never seen you naked before.”

Barry shrugged and reached around Mick to grab the squeegee. “Not much need for nakedness if we’re both not really interested in each other’s junk and we’ve never happened to shower together yet.”

Len had certainly seen Barry in just boxer briefs, which was how he slept, so he was familiar with Barry’s lighting-induced, very nicely sculpted abs. Mick, however, didn’t seem to be, and his eyes traveled down Barry’s body appreciatively.

“Nice dick.”

“Thanks. Maybe if you stick around, you can touch it sometime . . . maybe,” Barry grinned back, then poured some shower gel on the squeegee. “Len, turn around so I can scrub your back?”

And of course, Len turned around immediately, resting his hands against the tiled wall to stabilize himself as Barry started scrubbing his back, gently but thoroughly removing any traces left of the wax. Mick, in the meantime, grabbed the shampoo and lathered it up in his hands.

“Put your head under the water, Doll, so I can wash your hair.”

“Who said I needed my hair washed?”

“I do, I wanna shampoo it. Now quit whining, I need it wet.”

Laughing, Barry obliged, and Len leaned to the side to allow Barry to wet his hair under the spray, and then he saw Mick’s hands just about fly up to Barry’s hair once he was done, so he could start shampooing it. Mick always did say that the only bad thing about Len’s haircut was that he couldn’t play with Len’s hair . . . well, he had Barry for that now.

After they were done and Len had taken his time in lathering Barry up with too much foamy shower gel while Barry did the same to Mick, and they’d washed off all the soap again, and Barry had successfully batted away any playful attempt from Mick to reach his crotch, they wrapped themselves up in Barry’s big, floofy towels to dry off, then crawled right into Barry’s bed for naked cuddles, Mick sandwiched in the middle between Len and Barry.

“I liked this . . . it was nice and quiet, but still . . . intense in its own way,” Len admitted and snuggled in closer to Mick, cuddling up in the safe cocoon of his husband’s arms.

“That’s good. I liked it, too,” Barry replied from behind Mick, hidden from Len’s view.

Mick just grumbled something inaudible, but it sounded content enough that Len didn’t worry about it overly much.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Len admitted a bit later, over Mick’s soft snoring, somehow feeling safe enough to speak about things he didn’t normally dare to address, snuggled up with Mick, and with Barry close by but not able to make eye contact.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah . . . Remember when we were still only doing scenes, and we sometimes talked about doing some . . . harder things? Where maybe we would need more than an afternoon for a session?”

“Yes, I do. We had a lot of fun ideas . . . said we could do a weekend away or even a week. Why, are you thinking we should do that? Like the harder things we talked about?”

“I . . . yeah. Maybe? If you’d . . . be interested? I mean, I love the gentle things we’ve been doing recently, but also . . . that didn’t sound too bad when we were talking about it. And Mick’s on another Con for a week soon . . . it’s this whole big event, and he wanted to go alone, but I could also take that week off . . . and we could . . . do things.”

Barry chuckled, and Len could see the gears in his head turning even though he couldn’t even see Barry.

“Maybe we could even go somewhere else . . . make a little vacation out of it, where you’ll be the sub and I’ll be the Dom . . . the entire week long.”

Len blinked, then pushed himself up in Mick’s arms enough so he could peer over his head at Barry.

“That sounds amazing, Barry.”

Barry nodded, and Len could already see him plotting for that.

“We’ll need to discuss it before, though. What we’ll do, what not, how we’ll handle things if we’re not just doing a scene but doing a stretch of basically twenty-four-seven BDSM. Not now, but . . . come over for dinner next week so we can talk about it? Just the two of us? Get ideas, talk about what we expect from that, the works?”

“Perfect,” Len agreed and smiled at his cute boyfriend before settling back down in Mick’s arms, ready for a nap himself.

  
  



	11. Alone, Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things don’t go as planned . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // This one features a non-explicit sex scene.
> 
> (Or: The one where the Outside World happens and Len is the "Not In Front Of My Salad" meme)

Master’s satin sheets felt amazing under his body. Len hadn’t even known that Barry owned satin bedsheets, especially not after he’d once ranted about the slipperiness of satin sheets for about ten minutes. But it turned out that he did, in fact, own some, and now Len was spread out on them, all four limbs secured to the corners of Master’s bed, so his body was all stretched out and immobile, ready for Master to do with as he pleased. Master had blindfolded him, slipped a ball gag past his lips, and adorned him with a pair of earmuffs. In his left hand, Len clutched a smooth stone, washed round by the sea, that he and Master had picked up at the beach in Coast City. He held on to the stone like his life depended on it, knowing that if he dropped it, it would clatter on Master’s nightstand, and their session would end.

Len’s safe stone, Master called it, and it was used whenever Len would not be able to speak during a scene.

He tried to stay relaxed, save for his fingers flexing around the safe stone, but he couldn’t help but twitch at the sensations on his skin. Before Master had blindfolded him, he had shown him what he had laid out: A bundle of sage, already smouldering and slowly burning, and a tray of ice cubes.

And now, he used them to drive Len insane. The first touch felt the same to his overstimulated brain—fire and frost both put his nerves on end and had his brain screaming at his body to move, to get away from the danger—and only a few moments in, there would be the distinction in feeling between the ice cube and the sage stick, whether Master was running an ice cube down his thigh or would gently glide the sage above his skin, always careful to give him a burning sensation, but never to burn him. There was an ice cube laying on his belly button, slowly melting while making Len’s skin cold, so, so very cold, and simultaneously, Master was swirling the sage in circles around the ice cube, making it an icy center inside a burning hot circle and making Len’s nerves sing.

He had no idea how long they’d been on it, it felt like Master had forced him to endure this torture of sensations for hours on end already, but they could just as well have been on it for only minutes at this point. Len had lost any feeling of time. It was something he loved about subspace, being able to lose himself in sensation and in submission, to just be in the moment. He was usually so driven by schedules and meetings and felt like he was always running on a timer, so for him to be able to let go of that . . . it felt amazing.

Master’s circles with the sage bundle slowly became a spiral, moving up Len’s chest and setting a different kind of counterpoint to the ice cube melting on his stomach. Len sighed, telling himself to relax and endure what his Master had intended for him. He just knew he would feel so much better again after this . . . He always did, after a session with Master.

Suddenly, though, Master’s smudge stick disappeared and didn’t return. The ice cube was left undisturbed, but the source of heat that had kept his attention away from only the cold ice had gone away. Len wondered if maybe it had burned down and Master was grabbing something new, or something else to make  _Len feel so much_ . Len had also spied a feather toy before he’d been blindfolded. Maybe Master was grabbing that?

It was a while, though, and Master still hadn’t returned, or at least he wasn’t touching Len or making him aware of his presence otherwise. Maybe he was standing there, watching Len be confused, or maybe he wasn’t . . . Len didn’t know. He frowned behind his blindfold and turned his head, trying to get some kind of impression of where Master was.

And then there was a gust of wind.

And a second one.

And a third one.

A hand appeared on his chest, making him release a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, making him sure he wasn’t alone. He relaxed under Master’s hand, knowing that all was well.

Only. It wasn’t Master’s hand.

It was Mick’s.

Mick’s hand was joined by Mick’s second hand on his chest, and then one of them slid up, along Len’s throat, up his cheek, and Len didn’t feel it, but he knew it was settling on the earmuffs then. There was a tapping sensation, almost as if Mick was asking to take them off. Len nodded, feeling very confused again, but he told himself to take deep breaths through his nose, and that panicking now wouldn’t solve a thing.

Mick’s hands moved then, swiping the ice cube off his stomach and then lifting away the earmuffs.

“Hey, Lenny. It’s Mick. You’re so tense. It’s all alright, okay? I’ll explain in a minute, just gonna get you out of these.”

There was some fumbling behind Len’s head, presumably Mick trying to find the latch of the ball gag, but in the end, he sighed and gave up.

“There are scissors here, I’m going to use them to cut your wrists and ankles free, yeah? I have no idea how to undo these knots.”

Len nodded, unsure what was going on, but at this point eager to be able to ask again, so he held himself still while Mick cut the ropes, then sat up so he could undo the gag himself and spit it out.

“What’s going on?”

He knew he sounded more panicky than he wanted to, but Mick’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, and then Mick’s forehead was against his own, holding him close and giving him a point of connection.

“Just breathe for a few minutes, Lenny. Just breathe. I don’t need you to panic on me.”

And Len did as instructed, taking deep breaths and reaching out to hold on to Mick, knowing that he was safe and Mick was with him, regardless of whatever else was happening.

“Alright,” Mick murmured after a while when Len’s breathing had evened out again, and he could feel himself relax a bit. “You wanna take that blindfold off? I dimmed the lights.”

Len nodded, then pulled back so he could untie the knot of the blindfold to let it fall down. He blinked at the harsh light, feeling like it was terribly bright even though he knew it was dimmed already, but after a few moments he was able to open his eyes and look at Mick sitting in front of him, a pile of cut ropes on his lap and one hand still on Len’s arm.

“Okay . . . You feeling alright?”

“What’s happening?” Len asked, unable to think much past the fact that apparently, Barry had disappeared on him mid-scene.

Mick nodded, then shifted so he was sitting beside Len and wrapped an arm around him.

“So you know this weather dude that’s been running around like crazy, threatening to kill the Flash and committing mass murder and shit?”

Len nodded, he’d followed the Weather Wizard on the news, after all, and he’d had more than one headache-inducing meeting about what could be done about the meta.

“Yeah, so. He’s bringing . . . a lot of water up the harbour. Some folks say it’s tsunami-sized. Ready to flood the whole city and turn Central to a pile of debris . . . so there’s some panic going on, Flash got called in on super-emergency . . . They think he can make enough wind when running to keep the wave away or whatever. So he flashed me here so you’re not alone, and he’s . . . yeah.”

“Is my phone here?” Len asked, looking around and indeed spying it on the nightstand. He placed the safe stone down—he hadn’t even realised he’d still been holding it—and grabbed his phone. He ignored the text he’d gotten from Barry, and a few swipes later, he was seeing the livestream of what was happening in the harbour, saw cameras pointed on Mark Mardon pushing more and more and more water up into a tsunami, and the streak of lightning that was Barry running and running and running and running, trying to create enough of a wind to somehow, impossibly, hold back that amount of water.

And suddenly, his own situation didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter that Barry had left him here without even a word of explanation. Suddenly, Len was only frightened for Barry, seeing him run and run and run to try to hold back the wave that was going to drown the whole city.

Somehow, he wasn’t even thinking about the fact that both him and Mick would also be in mortal danger if that wave hit the city, he was only thinking about Barry, his sweet, gentle, caring Barry, racing out there for his life, but even more for everybody else’s life. He turned away and buried his face in Mick’s shoulder, unable to watch any longer.

But somehow, miraculously, it worked, and the catastrophe was averted, and all of Central City was celebrating the Flash as a hero. Barry even stood still for long enough for photographers to snap a few pictures of him, and then he was gone . . . in a flash.

He knew it would be a little while until they’d see Barry again, knowing that he was off to STAR Labs now to talk through the emergency with the team. But still, he knew Barry would be completely wiped out after a running session like that, so he surely would need some good food and some wind-down time.

So he pushed himself off the bed and started to collect the pieces of rope, tossed a towel on the wet spot that had once been an ice cube, and grabbed a shirt to put on.

“You okay?” Mick asked him, and he nodded and leaned in to kiss him.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s understandable that he went there. He was needed.”

Mick nodded in return, then stood up to open the bedroom door and hold it open for Len, almost as if he could sense that Len wanted to go elsewhere now.

“Don’t know anything about this aftercare stuff, though . . . you gotta tell me if you need things.”

“Thanks, Mick. Just . . . stay here with me? And . . . maybe we can cook together?”

“Together, sure.” Both of them knew that _cooking together_ really was just Len sitting on the counter and watching Mick cook, but somehow, Mick never complained. Len got really lucky with him, he knew. Mick was just the best.

A few minutes later, Len was indeed sitting on Barry’s kitchen counter with a mug of tea in his hands, watching Mick slice and stir and sear and do a thousand things at once as seemingly random things that he’d piled high on the counter were slowly forming into something edible and divine-smelling.

“Barry needs a bigger stove along with his big fridge,” Mick grumbled and poured out the contents of a pot into a bowl, only to start making the exact same thing again that had been in there before. “Guy needs a fucking industrial kitchen, is what.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I guess with how much he eats, he could actually profit from that,” Len agreed, then perked up as he heard the lock turn in the front door.

He hopped off the counter and set his mug down, then made his way to the front door, where a very tired and drained looking Barry was just coming inside.

“Welcome home, honey,” Len purred and stepped in close for a hug and a kiss, then stopped dead when he saw the expression on Barry’s face.

“. . . Barry?”

“I left you all alone, in the middle of a scene,” Barry whispered, looking pale and vexed and somehow not good at all. “I just . . . ran off . . . I’m so sorry, Len.”

“Yeah, there was this thing where you kind of needed to save the city, so don’t sweat it,” Len assured him and grabbed his coat so he could hang it up.

He was wholly unprepared for Barry to burst out into tears on the spot.

“Hey, Barry. Barry, it’s okay. I’m fine. You got Mick here, he explained what was going on, it’s alright. It’s all good, Barry, really.”

He stepped closer and drew Barry into a hug, and was surprised by how fiercely Barry clung to him, holding him tightly as if he never ever wanted to let him go again as he sobbed into Len’s shoulder.

“But I just left you there, and you were so vulnerable. An-and what if Mick hadn’t wanted to, or, or, or . . .”

Len simply nodded, then started to walk them towards the living room with Barry still entwined in his arms

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll just bring you to the living room, and we’ll sit down, okay?”

“But . . . why do you even care, why are you so nice? I just left you there . . . what if something had happened? Oh gosh, I should never be allowed to be your Dom ever again . . . I’m so sorry, Len,” Barry cried, making it difficult for Len to handle him, but he still managed to maneuver Barry into the living room and onto the couch, where he sat them both down and pulled Barry close, holding him in his arms and cuddling him, allowing him to cry it all out into Len’s shoulder.

“Mick?” he called into the kitchen. “I could use some backup!”

“Yeah, gonna put dinner in the oven first,” Mick called back, and Len turned back to Barry to gently rub his back and sway him back and forth, almost like one would do with a little child.

“I don’t know how you can even stand to see me,” Barry sobbed, and Len had to smile at that, knowing he would never just want to banish Barry from his life, even if things wouldn’t always go perfectly.

“But of course I do, Barry,” Len murmured. “There was an emergency, so you had to leave. It’s okay. Look, you took such good care of me anyway. You informed Mick, and you didn’t even just text him, you flashed him over. So you made sure I wasn’t alone, and that I was taken care of. I saw you left me a text, and I haven’t read it yet, but I assume it’s an explanation with an apology that is probably at least three maximum message lengths long. It happens, Barry. Especially when you moonlight as a superhero who needs to save the entire city. There was a tsunami coming, Barry. Of course, you would have to leave for that. You had to do that to save a whole city's worth of people. I can stand being left alone in the middle of a scene for once for that. And I know you wouldn’t do it light-heartedly, Barry, I know you’d never leave me alone if there wasn’t an absolute emergency that couldn’t be handled without you. I’d get upset if you left to stop a petty theft or to help an old lady across the street. But you wouldn’t, I know that. So I don’t blame you, Barry, and I want to see you again, I want you right here. Of course, I’d prefer if that didn’t happen, but that’s not what life is. I’ve been called into emergency-meetings while we were on dates as well, just like you were, remember? I’ve gotten into trouble because no one had been able to reach me while I was doing a scene with you and had my phone switched off. That’s life, Barry, don’t take it too hard.”

“I just . . . I never want to hurt you like that or confuse you when you’re so vulnerable. It feels so bad . . . and it feels like I’m showing you that I don’t care if I just leave you like that. And I never want you to think that of me . . . or to feel like I’m putting you second. And Mick . . . Mick really doesn’t want to see our kinky shit, and I tossed him right in there.”

“And he handled it like a pro, Barry. Just grabbed the scissors, cut me out of the ropes and let me do the rest by myself, explained what was going on and then just made sure not to leave me alone. Sure, it probably wasn’t his favourite view, but I mean . . . it’s not like he ran away screaming.”

“Who ran away screaming?” Mick asked, plopping down on the sofa next to Barry and wrapping his arms around him as well. “What’s up, Doll?”

“You didn’t. And Barry’s . . . not taking it well that he had to leave me alone,” Len explained, playing with Barry’s hair in a way he knew their speedster loved in an attempt to calm him down, seeing as he was still sobbing, and the wet patch on Len’s shirt was still growing and growing.

“But it all went fine,” Mick insisted as well, snuggling up to Barry from behind and nuzzling into his neck. “Y’dropped me off here, I rescued Lenny from his chains, all good. We even started making dinner for you.”

“We?” Barry asked, apparently momentarily distracted from his heartbreak.

“Yeah, you know. Lenny was my moral support.”

“I’ll have you know your cooking always comes out much better when I’m helping you,” Len insisted, and Barry chuckled wetly.

“We should tag-team you and teach you how to cook, really.”

“Yeah, we should. And then Lenny can cook us dinner for date night for once,” Mick insisted and sat up a bit more, still rubbing Barry’s back with his big hands. “But really, ‘s fine. I don’t mind jumping in. And you had all of Central to save, Barry. All of these people’s lives . . . our lives, too. You saved our lives, Doll. I think we’d both rather deal with you having to rush out than dying . . .”

Barry sniffled but pulled back and looked at Mick, his eyes puffy and red and his lips still quivering. “Really?” he whispered, and Len pulled him back in so he could give him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah, really. We know who you are and what you do, Barry. We knew that going into this. And we want you around, with all that that entails. So really . . . don’t worry about it too much, alright? It’s gonna be okay.”

Barry nodded, though he still didn’t look too convinced. “I didn’t even check on you . . . are you alright?” he asked, turning his teary, red-rimmed eyes to Len, who just smiled at him.

“I’m fine, it’s you who needs the care for once, Barry. So come here, I’ll give you cuddles and the snuggly blanket, and Mick brought you a glass of water from the kitchen. So let’s snuggle up here and watch crap on TV until dinner is ready, yeah?”

Barry nodded once more and eagerly took the glass that Mick was holding out to him, draining the water in it in one go. “Thank you,” he murmured and snuggled into Len again with the aftercare-snuggle blanket now firmly wrapped around his shoulders where Mick had draped it only seconds earlier. He leaned into Len and shuffled around until he was comfortable, then grabbed Mick’s arm and pulled him on top of himself so he was sandwiched in between Len and Mick, while Len turned on the TV to tune in to some crappy daytime show that neither of them were really interested in.

“You guys are too good to me,” he murmured and snuggled into them, cuddling close and burying himself into the very warm blanket.

“No, we aren’t. We’re just taking care of you, for once,” Len explained, continuing to play with Barry’s hair where it stuck out of the blanket. “You’re the best, and I’m so happy to have you. You always take such great care of me, Barry, and of both of us, the few times that Mick joined in . . . You deserve some care too. You know that Dom drop is a thing as well, right? You’re allowed to feel down and take a scene badly and need care and reassurance and all the cuddles. I’m all too happy to hog them, usually, but really, you deserve them just as much as I do . . .”

“Mm, I don’t even like your kinky shit, but I also want cuddles,” Mick grumbled, the sound turning into a happy purr as Barry wrangled his arms out of the blanket so he could wrap them around Mick for more contact-focused cuddles.

“Still though . . . you guys are the best,” Barry murmured, and in a moment of weakness, Len didn’t find it in himself to contradict him.

  
  


***

  
  


Len came home earlier than usual, still exhausted from a day of too many meetings and too many terse discussions about money and the future of the city. He wanted nothing more than to fall down onto the sofa face-first and maybe ask Mick to give him a shoulder rub later. So he closed the door behind himself, toed off his shoes, hung up his coat, and put his laptop bag in its designated spot before shuffling into the living room, working on taking off his tie and suit jacket as he did so.

He stopped short when he heard the noises coming from the living room, then approached with more caution. Just as he’d guessed by the moans and the creaking of the sofa, there was Mick, and someone was under him, legs wrapped around Mick’s waist and hands grabbing on to Mick’s neck. Mick was clearly naked, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they were doing.

“Ugh, Mick. On our sofa?” Len grumbled by way of greeting and then turned around to walk into the kitchen instead to get himself a snack with a plan to retreat to bed with something crumbly that would make Mick furious about Len eating in bed. Well, he’d get that for fucking someone on their couch when Len just wanted to relax.

It didn’t seem like Mick and whoever he was fucking were disturbed by Len’s entry at all, and Len rolled his eyes at the increasing intensity of the moaning and the creaking noises. If Mick broke the sofa, he’d personally wring his neck for that. Even like this, he’d probably make him pay to have the sofa professionally cleaned. Really.  _On the sofa_ .

He found a granola bar suitable for munching on while he waited for Mick to finish what he was doing and send his fuckbuddy on their way and was pouring himself a glass of water as he heard the long, drawn-out moans that usually suggested someone’s orgasm, and by Mick’s grunting noises, he wasn’t far behind at all. He rolled his eyes at no one and went for the orange juice instead of the water. He needed some sugar after the day he’d had. As he took slow sips of his juice, he checked his phone, idly wondering why Barry hadn’t responded to his latest text yet. Maybe he was off on Flash business again.

He was so immersed in his phone that he didn’t notice someone else’s presence in the kitchen with him until arms wrapped around him. He startled and almost dropped his glass, but then put it down along with his phone and turned around in Mick’s arms.

Only it wasn’t Mick. It was Barry.

Barry, who was stark naked and looked very fucked out and . . . smelled like sex.

“Ugh. Really? On our sofa?” Len grumbled but still allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss by Barry before pushing him away.

“Ugh. Go take a shower, you reek of sex.” Mick appeared in the doorway, just as naked as Barry, and leered at the two of them.

“Will do, boss. Pass me the paper towels first, though.” Not even wanting to ask about it, Len grabbed the roll of paper towels and tossed it at Mick, then fixed him with a glare while pointing a finger at him.

“Mick. Cleaning Bill.” Mick rolled his eyes but nodded before he vanished back to the living room, presumably to clean up whatever mess they’d made.

Barry was still in the kitchen, regarding Len with a bit of trepidation.

“Do you . . . mind this?”

“That you sully my couch? Yes, I wanted to relax on it tonight and not think about how I’m sitting in your spunk.”

“We had a towel under there, Mick said you’d kill us both otherwise . . . but no, I mean . . . that we had sex.”

Len looked at him then, took him in, naked as the day he was born, with hickeys around his neck, some questionable wet glistening spots all over him, his hair tousled and pulled and very fucked-out looking . . . and yet he was looking at Len with concern, wondering if he’d just upset him by sleeping with Mick.

How would Len ever deserve someone as gorgeous as Barry?

He stepped closer again and drew Barry into a kiss and hugged him.

“Of course I don’t mind. I don’t understand it, but I don’t mind. You did say you sometimes like it . . . Sorry, I’m just . . . it’s been a day, and I just wanted to fall on the sofa face-first, not get greeted by Mick’s naked ass. But don’t worry, Barry. It’s all good. Did you have a good time?”

Barry grinned at him then and nodded. “Yeah. Mick’s real good in bed . . . or on the sofa, I guess. But I got the memo for next time, and I’ll drag him to the bed.” He pulled Len in for another kiss and then beamed at him. “Gonna take that shower now and put on clothes again. Netflix and cuddle later?”

“Absolutely,” Len murmured, and couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Barry walk out of the kitchen, then poke Mick with a “tag, you’re it!” and race him to the bathroom.

Later, on the couch, Barry was snuggled between the two of them, with Mick sitting in the spot that Len refused to sit on before the couch would be cleaned, and Len leaning into Barry from the other side, half hanging off the sofa and hogging the popcorn in his lap.

“So . . . had a good time, Doll?” Mick asked after a while, and Barry chuckled, then reached over to steal a handful of Len’s popcorn before answering.

“Absolutely brilliant. 'Can’t wait to do not do it again for the next six months.”  
  
  



	12. Vacation . . . Relaxation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacation time!

“So, here we are,” Barry announced, as if Len hadn’t just walked through the door with him. It seemed to be a simple enough holiday apartment—bedroom, living room, small kitchen, bathroom. Len looked around and had a peak in all the rooms, then turned back to Barry.

“Okay, so . . . what’s the plan?”

“Plan is . . . You go take a shower, get yourself into the mindset, while I set up in here. When you get out, you’ll be naked, and I’ll give you your collar. And then it’s six days of playtime, and on day seven, Mick will join us before we go back home.” This was nothing new to Len, as they’d just spend the two-hour ride to their holiday destination going over their plans, their terms, their safety measures again. It wasn’t all the time that they went somewhere else for a twenty-four-seven BDSM week, after all. So Len nodded and started taking off his clothes, wholly unselfconscious in front of Barry by now.

“Alright. That sounds good,” he agreed, taking his phone out of his pocket. Barry held out his hand for it, and Len handed it over after turning it off.

“You texted everyone you needed to that you’ll be off the radar for a week? Lisa, your secretary, . . . ?”

Once more, Len nodded. “Yes, I texted them and left them your phone number for emergencies. Mick knows that he can only reach you for the week as well.”

“Good boy,” Barry told him, making something big and fluttery stir in Len’s stomach. “Now . . . you go shower, and I’ll go back outside.”

Back outside was the pickup truck they’d come in, laden with equipment that was covered in blankets so Len had no idea what it was. They’d agreed to discuss all the terms and conditions, and some fantasies, but Len had no idea what was in store for him this coming week. And if that wasn’t a thrilling thought, . . . 

He leaned in for one last kiss — he didn’t know when he’d next be allowed to kiss his Master, after all — and then went off to the bathroom, folding his clothes into a neat pile on the toilet seat before he climbed into the bathtub shower to rinse off and relax his muscles, which were sore from a day of sitting in the car. Barry had been driving, so he didn’t even know where exactly they were. But this week, it wouldn’t be his job to care. His job was simply to obey and keep his Master happy. He could do that.

He loved serving his Master.

When he came out of the shower, Master was waiting in front of the door, his collar already in hand.

“There you are, my good boy,” Master told him with a smile, and Len sank to his knees without needing to be told to do so. He bent down and pressed his lips to the tips of Master’s shoes.

“Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Master,” he whispered and waited for Master’s hand on his shoulder to gently guide him back up into an upright position before moving.

“You’re very welcome,” Master told him and held up the collar, making Len tilt back his head so the collar could be fastened around his throat as usual.

“Tell me your safeword, Len.”

“Lettuce, Master.”

“Good boy. Lettuce it is. Now, remember: on top of your safeword, we’re using the traffic light colour system, alright? Just like we discussed. Because we are delving into things we haven’t explored before, I want to have the option to check in on you like that.”

Len nodded, keeping eye contact with Master to show him that he was listening and that he understood what Master was saying.

“And I will be harder with you during this, I might be mean or dismissive or humiliating to you, but I want you to keep two things in mind, okay? First, you can always, always, always stop everything with your safeword. And secondly, even more important: I love you so much, Len. Keep that in mind, alright? I love you very much.”

“I love you too, Master. Thank you for doing this with me,” Len replied, determined to keep it in his mind that his Master _loved_ him, and that he would never truly hurt Len.

“Thank you for doing this with _me_ , darling,” Master told him, and then stood and went over to the living room door.

“Ready?”

“Ready, Master.”

  
  


***

  
  


It could only have been a few hours since they started playing, but Len already felt like they had been at it for an eternity. Once they’d stepped into the living room, Master had turned to him and smiled at him in a way that Len knew didn’t mean anything good. And now, he found that to be true, as he knelt in front of Master with Master’s feet in his lap. He massaged them, rubbing them down with oil and giving them the TLC that they deserved after carrying Master around such great distances at such great speed. Len loved giving Master massages, making Master feel good. Master’s back, knees, and feet were always especially happy to see some love.

All this wouldn’t be a problem if only Master hadn’t tied Len up before. He’d made him kneel in front of the sofa and had looped a rope around Len’s ankle, then had led it up, around Len’s throat, and down to his other ankle. Now, this also wouldn’t be a problem either, as long as Len kept kneeling straight with his head up towards Master. But he had Master’s feet in his lap, and he had to look  _down_ to make sure he took proper care of them  **. . .** Every time he did so, the motion would choke him a little, and he would have to quickly straighten back up and try to gather himself for the next time he had to look downwards.

Master was watching Netflix in the meantime, rewatching something that he’d seen with Len and Mick before. He seemed to be fully immersed in it, but Len noticed his eyes flitting down to Len every few moments, checking up on him while pretending not to do so. It made Len feel very safe to know that even now that they were trying out darker, harder kinks, Master was watching out for him and wouldn’t let him choke himself on accident. He took a deep breath, and looked down again, putting pressure on his throat as he did so, then held his breath for a few moments as he let his hands glide over Master’s feet, coating them in the oil that would seep into the skin to soften it and make it more pliable again.

Len thought he must have gone over Master’s feet about a thousand times before Master finally pulled his feet back and stood, walking around Len. The tugging on the rope that tightened it around his throat came wholly unexpected, and Len was sure he made some spectacular choking noises. Just as fast as it had come, though, the pressure on his throat was gone again, and Master had undone the rope around one ankle.

“An adequate job, my pet. Now, get yourself out of that rope and set the table.” And with that, Master left Len to unwrap the rope around his throat and to untie it from his other ankle. Being the good sub that he was, Len even coiled it up neatly and went to store it on the sideboard along with the other implements that Master had brought.

He went to grab plates and cutlery for them, but only found one plate and one set of cutlery sitting in the cupboard. Knowing what this meant, he simply grabbed what was in there and set the table for his Master. He debated whether it would be okay to place a cushion next to Master’s chair for himself but hadn’t reached a conclusion yet when Master stepped up to him and made him turn around so he was facing him. Master ran a hand along his throat, and Len did his best not to wince at the slight chafing that had occurred from the ropes, and that reminded Len that it was there as Master’s fingers slid over it. Master frowned a bit, hand on Len’s collar now, that sat just above the chafed line.

“Hm . . . tell me if the collar aggravates the chafing,” Master told him, then set down the bowl of food he’d brought to the living room. “And don’t worry, you won’t need a chair or anything.”

That meant no cushion, either, then. Len nodded, even though Master had already turned his back again to walk back into the kitchen.

Len moved to the spot that Master had explained would be his default spot to be in if Master hadn’t commanded him to be somewhere else, and so he went over to the cage that Master had set up on one side of the room and knelt down next to it. Master hadn’t mentioned what the cage was for, so Len would just have to wait and see what his Master had in store for him.

Within a few minutes, Master had whipped together something that smelled absolutely delicious. Len eagerly crawled over to him as soon as he sat down and snapped his fingers to call Len over. He came to kneel next to Master, watching him take a few bites before offering him a spoonful, which he gratefully took, pressing a soft kiss to the tips of Master’s fingers as thanks for feeding Len, and feeding him such good food on top of that.

They sat in silence, with Master scrolling his phone occasionally or looking out of the window and feeding Len mouthfuls of food from time to time. It was quite uneventful, but Len also knew that they were still feeling around for how things would go, and how far and how intensely they could push things. He certainly didn’t complain about kneeling next to Master, being fed bites of food and just sitting there contently.

Once dinner was over, Master had Len clear away the dishes and the leftovers, then sat down on the sofa again. Len went to kneel next to him but found himself pushed back a little and his shoulders pressed down, and then Master’s feet were on his back as Master leaned back into the couch to relax.

Footrest it was, then. He made sure to shuffle into a position he would be able to hold for a while without disturbing Master’s feet on his back, then tried to relax while also being the best support he could be for his Master.

By the time Master pulled his feet back from his subby footrest, Len’s arms were shaking and keeping his breath even didn’t come easily to him, but he’d managed to hold still and be quiet so he wouldn’t disturb his Master.

Master ruffled his hair now as he walked past Len, giving him at least that tiny bit of recognition he’d been denied all evening as he knelt there, having no more attention on him than any piece of furniture would.

He looked after Master, saw him walk over to the cage and open the door, and some comprehension dawned on him as Master waved him over. He swallowed but rallied whatever strength was left in his arms to slowly crawl over, eyeing the cage with some trepidation.

“Well, come over, you’ll sleep here tonight,” Master told him, and Len hesitated for another moment before crawling into the cage. He expected the door to shut behind him immediately, but he didn’t hear anything, so he turned around, glad to find that this was possible, even if it wasn’t comfortable doing so. All in all, the cage didn’t look like he would be able to stretch out in it, . . . but there was a folded blanket and a small pillow in the corner, at least.

He looked at the open door, where Master had crouched down and was looking at him intently.

“Colour, pet?”

Len closed his eyes to really get into how he was feeling, then nodded. “Green, Master.”

“Alright. This is where you’ll sleep. I’ll be in the bedroom. You see those buttons?” He pointed at little devices, looking like remote controls, with one button each on them. There was one fastened to every side of the cage. Len nodded, leaning closer to inspect them.

“They’re connected to my phone. These are your safeword for your nights spent in here,” Master explained, and Len nodded, then looked up to smile at Master. Master truly was so kind, thinking of everything that would make Len feel better, even risking having his sleep disturbed so that Len would feel safe!

He wanted to thank Master, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak, so he bent down to kiss the back of Master’s hand that was still wrapped around one of the bars of the cage. Master chuckled and allowed the kiss before pulling back and closing the door and locking it.

Immediately, Len’s throat closed up, and he stared at the closed door, suddenly feeling claustrophobic and very restrained. He looked up, finding Master’s eyes through the roof of the cage and letting out a little whimper. Master crouched down next to him again and gave him one of his kind smiles.

“Relax, pet,” he murmured and reached inside to cup Len’s cheek. “You’ve got the buttons, and you remember what I told you about this cage model, right?”

Len frowned a bit, not knowing what Master hinted at, but then he thought about it and remembered Master showing him pictures of this model and pointing out the hidden latch that would allow the occupant to open the cage from the inside. Len had said that he didn’t need it, but Master had insisted upon it as a safety measure. And now, as he could feel himself relaxing and his heart rate slowing down, Len was immensely grateful for the foresight his Master had had.

So he nodded and placed another kiss on Master’s palm.

“Good boy. Now, have a good night; I have lots of things in store for you tomorrow,” Master promised him before standing up and walking out of the door. He left the door in the hallway turned on, a silent acknowledgement of Len being unable to sleep without at least a little light creeping into the room.

Len watched his Master retreat, then turned around again to grab the pillow and the blanket and curled up in his cage, trying to get comfortable with the bars of the cage pressing into his side and his back where he was laying pressed up against the edge of it.

  
  



	13. Enter, Dive, Float, Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week spent in Kink Paradise

The coming morning, Len was awake long before Master entered the living room. To say that he was well-rested would be a vast exaggeration, but in the end, he’d slept more soundly than he’d ever have expected. But he was sore from lying tightly curled up in a weird position and from the bars digging into his body all night, and somehow his collar had chafed at his throat as well, right where the rope had already aggravated it the day before.

But as he saw Master walk into the room, he still happily and eagerly pushed himself up to get as close to the cage door as possible so he could greet his Master.

Master seemed to be in a good mood, and he crouched down and reached in, petting Len’s head even before he opened the door. Len was out the door in a moment, scooting as close as he could to Master and snuggling into his legs and enjoying Master’s hands that seemed to be petting him all over.

“Good morning, Len. How was your night in the cage?” Master asked him, and from the tone of it, he did really expect an answer, so Len sat back on his knees and smiled up at him.

“Good morning, Master. Seeing you this morning is the best part of it,” he answered truthfully, and Master laughed at that, then took Len’s face and gave him a kiss.

“Should have known you’d give me some schmoopy answer,” he grinned. “But seriously. Colour?”

“Green, Master,” Len replied, this time without having to think about it.

“Good. Come on, then, let’s go make breakfast.”

Len nodded, then halted on his way into the kitchen as he realised something and hesitated, looking back at Master to see if he would be able to read what Len needed without him needing to speak out of turn.

Master only realised that Len had stopped coming along a few steps farther, and he turned around to look at him.

“Come on, dear. Let’s go.” Len whimpered a little, and looked to the living room door, hoping to make it clear what was going on. Master hadn’t sent him to the toilet last night, after all, and now that he was moving again, he really needed to relieve himself. He wriggled a little, his legs pressed together in a pretty universal sign for ‘need the bathroom,’ and Master chuckled.

“Do you need to go to the toilet?” He asked, and Len nodded, holding himself back from already turning around to head to the bathroom.

“Aw, sweetie. Not now. You can wait until later,” Master said, and with that, disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Len to stare at him, flabbergasted. Master had never denied him a direct request before.

Len looked back to the door, wondering if he could get away with just going anyway, but he knew that Master would know, . . . and then Master would be upset with him. And he didn’t want to upset Master! So he followed Master to the kitchen door, trying to push his full bladder out of his mind.

“What do you think, this morning . . . a nice pot of tea?” Master asked him, already putting on the kettle. And Len loved his tea, so he’d happily agree . . . if only he didn’t need to go to the bathroom so badly. But Master had told him to wait, so he waited and watched Master prepare toast for them, and he didn’t even burn it like Len always would. But really, that was just because the toaster hated him.

Len was itching to move, to maybe be ordered to set the table again so he would have something to do to keep his mind off his bladder, but there was no command forthcoming. On the contrary, Master seemed to be very happy to do everything himself, which left Len with nothing to do but look at him, to watch him as he poured the tea out of the pot in a nice steady stream into the mug, making it sound just like when he was relieving himself in the bathroom—

and he was smirking at Len as he did so. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it made Len whimper, trying to silently beg Master to just let him go. But of course, no such thing was forthcoming.

Instead, Master sat down on the sofa for breakfast and shared his toast with Len the same way he’d shared his dinner the night before, by hand feeding him pieces every once in a while. And along with that, he made sure Len was drinking lots and lots of tea.

Not too soon after, Master was sitting on the sofa and reading, and Len was kneeling at his feet, growing increasingly desperate with not being able to go to the bathroom. He was pressing his legs together and tried to constantly berate his own brain for being so focused on his bladder. If only he could take his mind off it, he might hold out longer . . . but it was hurting by now, and he needed to go . . . he needed to go so badly . . . if only Master would let him go . . . 

He felt a hand on his cheek and looked up into Master’s face.

“Darling, you’re crying,” Master murmured, and Len only noticed that this was true when he felt Master wipe away a tear that was rolling down his cheek.

“Are you not feeling well?” Master asked him, placing a hand on his forehead as if to check his temperature.

Len sniffled, then whined, trying to make his Master see that he really, really needed to go.

“What is it, love?” Master asked him, and Len took a deep breath, but his voice still came out all watery and wet sounding.

“I . . . please, Master, may I use the bathroom?” he asked and watched as Master’s face softened.

“But darling, why didn’t you just say so? Come on, let’s go.”

Master stood, taking Len’s arms to pull him upright as well. After not moving for so long and after having drunk so much tea, that was what proved too much for Len, and the jolt of being pulled up so suddenly made his bladder let go for just a moment, and Len sobbed as he felt the wet spot form at the top of his thighs, but desperately tried to hold on and not let go completely before he was on a toilet.

“Oh, dear . . . we’re a little late, aren’t we?” He asked and urged Len forward, into the hallway and then into the bathroom. By the time they were standing in front of the toilet, Len was full-on crying, and he was shaking so much that Master reached around him to stabilize him and took ahold of his cock, angling it towards the toilet.

“That’s it, darling . . . let go,” he murmured into Len’s ear, and Len did, sobbing at the relief that he felt as he finally, finally emptied his bladder. Master stood behind him the entire time, gently nuzzling into Len’s neck and whispering sweet little nothings into his skin. Once he was done, Master even cleaned him up, wiping away the drops he’d spilled on himself and flushing the toilet before turning Len towards himself and drawing him into a hug.

“You’re such a good boy,” Len heard, and he wrapped his arms around Master in return to cling to him, eager to soak in every bit of affection that Master was giving him.

“You’re such a good boy, and you held out for so long. I’m so proud of you,” Master told him, causing Len to smile through his tears. “Are you feeling better now?”

Len nodded and pulled back a bit to look at Master so he could see him and bask in the gentle smile that Master was giving him.

“Alright. Come on, let’s go back to the couch then.” Master took Len’s hand and led him back to the living room, but this time, instead of making him kneel at his feet, Master pulled Len onto the sofa with him, sitting sideways and pulling Len to sit in front of him.

“Now, what would you like to watch, darling? A Disney movie or Lord of the Rings?”

Neither of them would have been Len’s first choice, but he did appreciate that Master was giving him a choice at all, so he turned around and gave him a grateful smile. “Lord of the Rings, please, Master?” He knew that that was one of Master’s favourites, after all . . . 

It turned out that Master did not only want them to watch while doing nothing else though, and he soon found himself with his head on his knees, trying not to groan and keen too badly as Master massaged his back, working out all the kinks and all the stiffness that had accumulated over the night, and soon Len was sure he was nothing more than a puddle of goo on the sofa, and yet Master kept massaging his back, kept making him feel good and happy and so, so, so relaxed.

And then Master brought out the pinwheel.

  
  


***

  
  


The next few days largely blurred together in Len’s mind, a constant ebb and flow of being pushed to the borders of what he could endure, and then being praised and allowed to relax and recover, but never enough to come out of subspace. Feeling sore and stiff and achy became his constant companion, from all the ways that Master found to stretch him and bend him and torture him, and the nights spent in the cage didn’t do anything to relieve that.

And Len loved it. Even at night, alone in his cage, uncomfortable and just a little bit chilly, he’d always look forward to when Master would come back and find a new way to make him aching and sore and make him cry, and Len would always, always do his best to make Master proud of him. And if Master wanted him achy and crying, then Len would suffer for him and cry for him, and then take solace in the fact that Master was proud of him, that Master praised him and told him how good he was doing.

And then, suddenly, out of the blue, in the middle of a day, it didn’t feel good anymore. Suddenly, there were doubts in Len’s mind—if Master truly was proud of him, if he only wanted Len to hurt him, if he truly cared about Len. It had been so long since he’d gotten a hug from Master . . . or a kiss.

He was tied up in the corner of the room, facing the wall while Master was cooking dinner, but it seemed as if Master had been watching him anyway, since suddenly he was standing beside Len, gently maneuvering him around so he could look at him.

“Len? Your whole posture suddenly changed, is everything alright?”

And Len . . . Len could only shake his head, unable to put into words what was suddenly going through his head.

“Do you need to safeword?” Master asked him, already reaching for the scissors, ready to cut Len out of the ropes. But again, Len shook his head. He didn’t want it to end yet . . . he just . . . he needed _something,_ needed to feel grounded again.

“Alright . . . Can you give me a colour?”

Len sighed and closed his eyes, concentrating on trying to communicate with Master.

“Yellow.”

“Alright, yellow. Can you tell me what you need, darling? So I can help you.”

“Can we . . . break?” Len asked, and Master nodded, gently cupping Len’s cheek.

“Take a break? Of course, love. Why don’t I untie you, and get you your snuggly blanket, and then we can cook dinner together? Does that sound good?”

Len nodded, and he was suddenly crying with relief as the ropes came off, and before he even realised it, he was reaching for Master, wordlessly begging for a hug, and felt himself encased in those strong arms, and Master’s lips on top of his head for a gentle kiss.

“Oh, darling, I didn’t realise you were feeling down. It’s been much too long since you got a good cuddle, hasn’t it? We should have dinner on the couch later, and cuddle the rest of the evening, take a break from this.” Len nodded and clung tighter to Master before letting go with a sniffle, allowing Master to flash to the bedroom and come back with a blanket.

“‘S not the aftercare blanket,” Len noticed, and Master shook his head.

“No. That one wasn’t dried from its wash yet as we left, but I thought you might like this?” He knelt in front of Len and carefully draped the blanket around his shoulders. Len gasped when he realised what it was and immediately pulled it tighter around himself.

“Master, you got me a weighted blanket!”

“Yes, I did,” Master hummed and kissed Len’s forehead. “Wanna help make dinner?”

Len allowed Master to pull him to his feet and then followed him into the kitchen, where Master helped him up onto the counter, wrapped him up into a blanket burrito with what was sure to become the new aftercare blanket, and then proceeded with chopping veggies for dinner. While he was cooking, he chattered on about nothing important, telling him what Mick had been up to the past days, and talking about some mishaps Cisco had had in the lab. And Len was sitting there, a mug of tea in hand because of course Master would not let him be without a beverage, and just listened to Master’s voice and the clattering of dishes without taking in any of what was being said, just enjoying Master’s presence, and enjoying being close to him, and feeling so cared for.

“What would you like to drink with dinner?” Master asked him after a while, and Len hummed a little in thought while he sipped his tea.

“Maybe just water, and then some juice afterwards, Master?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Master nodded and then turned back to his pan to stir the heaven in food form that was sitting in it.

Just a few moments later, dinner was done, and Master dished out an Indian concoction that Len had never heard of but that smelled like he just wanted to stuff his face with it, and then took it over to the sofa, where he curled up with Len, both of them with a bowl in their lap. Len decided to forego the weighted blanket during dinner, not wanting to get some food stains on it.

“So . . . tuck in, and I hope you’ll like it,” Master murmured, then kissed Len on the temple before taking his first bite. Len nodded and happily dug into his meal, leaning against Master as much as he could while still being able to eat properly. It tasted just as good as it had smelled.

“Usually I would have made fresh naan bread to go with this, but I didn’t want to spend so much time in the kitchen, so it’s just some rice . . . but that’s not really bad either, is it?”

Len hummed and shook his head, his mouth full of Indian heaven and rice. He chewed and swallowed before leaning over to kiss Master on the cheek. “Not bad at all, Master. Thank you so much for making this. It tastes wonderful.” It would probably be even more amazing with some naan bread, but well, he was also very glad that Master wanted to stay with him and keep watch of him more. He just felt so safe with Master, and really, that was all he ever wanted, all he’d ever craved.

“I feel so safe with you,” he admitted, out of the blue, before taking his next bite. Master looked at him with a soft smile and raised a hand to brush the back of it over Len’s cheek. Len couldn’t help but lean in, nuzzling against Master’s hand.

“And I want to keep you safe, darling. Always and forever. Safe and cared for and loved.”

Len hummed and tried not to pout when Master pulled his hand back to continue eating.

“I never felt safe with any of the others. It was a thrill to submit to them, and it was exhilarating in a way . . . but never safe. Never something . . . for the long run.”

“But this is?” Master asked him, and Len felt himself blushing but made himself meet Master’s eyes.

“But this is.”

Both of them leaned in then, and the kiss they shared was so sweet and caring and so full of Master’s love that it made Len’s toes curl in happiness. Master smiled at him then and went back to his food, and Len knew that this was not a conversation to have at this point, but somehow, he couldn’t help but think they would work out just fine.

After dinner, Master cleared away their dishes while Len continued to sit on the sofa, snuggled back up in the weighted blanket.

“So . . . do you want to talk about what made you need a break?” Master asked him after he’d come back and sat down next to Len, pulling him into his arms.

“I . . . I don’t really know, Master,” Len admitted with a shrug. “It was just . . . all too much all of a sudden, and I couldn’t handle it anymore . . . Couldn’t take comfort in it anymore . . . I don’t really know.”

Master listened to him, openly and as if what Len was saying was the most important thing in the world.

“Okay . . . maybe you were overstimulated then, after days of basically non-stop playing with no breaks at all. Maybe this is something we both needed; I could feel myself getting a bit on edge as well. But how are you doing now, are you feeling better, darling?”

Len nodded, snuggling deeper into Master’s side. “Yeah, much better. I . . . I really want to continue playing, though . . . maybe a bit more snuggling, and then we can go back to it, Master?”

“Of course, darling. If you feel comfortable with it, I’d love to continue still. Just tell me when you’re ready then, but don’t hurry. We’ll take a break for however long you need.”

In the end, they decided on watching a movie first, and Len snuggled into Master the entire time, even wrapping him into the weighted blanket with him. He almost drifted off, feeling so comfortable and happy and without worries, but he did manage to stay awake, even if he didn’t actually take note of anything that was going on in their movie.

Once the movie was done, he took off the blanket and neatly folded it over the arm of the sofa and slipped out of the underwear that Master had given him to wear during their break.

He took a moment to stand and stretch, and then gently sunk to his knees, folding his arms behind his back and lowering his head, though he did keep eye contact with Master.

“Green, Master.”

Master had been watching him move about without a word, and now he was smiling but slid off the sofa to crouch in front of Len, taking his face in his hands. “Green? Gladly, but I want you to be sure, okay? Do you want to go back to playing now already? You could also spend the night in the bed with me, just cuddling, and we’ll resume in the morning. Whatever you want to, darling.”

It was a tempting notion to be allowed to sleep in Master’s bed for the night, but Len shook his head and leaned forward to rest his forehead against Master’s shoulder. If he stayed the night with Master, he was pretty sure he would slip out of his submissive mindset, out of the sweet embrace of subspace . . . and he wasn’t really ready to face that yet. He wanted to keep this, and he wanted to keep playing. He felt so much better again now, after having been cuddled and hugged and fed by Master, so he was good to keep going now.

“Thank you for the offer, Master. But . . . I’m fine now. Thank you for giving me a break.”

“Alright. Then we’ll continue. You know what to keep in mind at all times, yes?”

Len nodded, even though he knew Master would repeat it again anyway. And just as expected, Master took Len’s face in his hands and gently pushed him back until they had eye contact again. “You’re to remember that you can always use your safewords, and above all else, you need to know that I love you, Len.”

“I love you too, Master,” Len murmured, and happily accepted the kiss Master gave him upon his confession.

“Alright then, love. Tell me your safeword.”

“Lettuce, Master.”

“Lettuce it is, darling.”

And then, they continued, and time was once more not something that Len could keep track of, as days and nights blended together and morning and evening became irrelevant in the face of his task of pleasing Master, and being a good boy for him, suffering for him, doing whatever he was bidden to do, and allowing Master to do with his body as he pleased. His body was Master’s, after all, just like his mind, heart, and soul.


	14. Good Vibrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry has a surprise for Len.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I'll have you know that I am *ridiculously* proud of the stupid pun that is the title of this chapter.... also this was one of my very favourites to write!

Len was once more in his cage for the night and was waiting for Master to return once more before retreating to the bedroom for the night. He said he had something he wanted to give to Len still, so Len knew he shouldn’t curl up for sleep yet. His blanket and pillow had disappeared, though, and Len worried if Master would want to let him sleep completely out in the nude tonight. The room was warm, warmer than normal, so he wouldn’t get too cold, but he couldn’t help but shiver at the thought anyway.

Master came back then, one hand behind his back, and he smiled at Len in a way that Len knew meant he wouldn’t feel comfortable for a while now. It was the same smile Master used before he tied Len up for long amounts of time in positions that would leave him in tears after a while. And still, he returned Master’s smile and pushed himself up on his hands and knees in anticipation of what was about to come.

He nearly recoiled when Master revealed what he had held behind his back, and it turned out to be a dildo. He backed up, ready to throw down and say his safeword within seconds, but Master dropped the toy and reached into the cage, cupping Len’s face.

“Hey, hey. No sexual things, I promise. I promise, Len. This had just the shape that I needed, but I promise you. I promise you . . . alright?”

Len took a few moments to breathe and then nodded, though he continued to eye the toy warily.

“Alright. I want to try something special tonight. It will be very harsh on you, but it would mean a lot to me if you’d do it for me, okay? Will you let me show what I have planned?”

Len nodded, even though he wasn’t feeling overly convinced, but Master had promised him no sex, and Len trusted Master, so it would be fine. Len had endured many things to please Master already, after all, and Master had always, always rewarded him for allowing his boundaries to be pushed, and true to his word, he’d never broken Len’s boundaries either.

“Good boy, darling. Alright. I want you on your hands and knees and crawl backwards until your backside hits the side of the cage, the side opposite the door. And your feet and calves fit between the bars, I want you to push them through so they’re outside and the back of your knees is flush with the cage wall as well.”

It took Len a minute to figure out how Master wanted him, but in the end, he knelt on the carpet below the cage, his knees carefully placed between the bars and his legs sticking out of the cage. Now Len also knew why Master had pulled the cage away from the wall for now.

He pushed backwards until his backside was flush against the bars, and Master hummed approvingly.

He walked behind Len and knelt there, and then there were Master’s hands on him, tying his legs to the bars just above the knee so he wouldn’t be able to move forward, away from the bars anymore. Then, Master pushed him forward just a bit and slipped something between the middle of his thighs and the bars—-something long and plasticky . . . Len startled a bit when he realised that this must be the dildo.

“Shhh, darling. It’s okay,” Master murmured before looping some loop around his midsection, using the space where Len was bent at the hip to pull him back and tie his backside to the bars as well, so the backs of his thighs were flush against the cage wall, pressing against the dildo that was held in place horizontally by the pressure of his thighs.

“There you go, love . . . Can you give me a colour?”

“Green, Master,” Len verified after a short contemplation, and Master smiled at him and nodded. He then unclamped the safeword-buttons that Len had never used from their places in the cage and placed all of them around Len, so they were much closer to him.

“Now, I want you to stay like this all night, Len. You can lay down if your arms get too tired, but your butt will stay up there, pressed against the bars, where I tied it. Can you do that for me?”

Len immediately knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night, but if Master wanted to leave him suspended like this, it was Master’s prerogative, and Len would obey him. He was very grateful for Master to place the buttons closer, though, not knowing if he might need them, after all.

“Yes, Master. I can do that for you,” he replied, causing Master to smile so beautifully and so lovingly at him that Len felt like he would melt into a puddle on the bottom of the cage.

“Thank you, my darling. You’re so good for me. I wish you a good night, Len.”

“Good night, Master. And thank you.”

Master smiled at him, then turned to walk out of the living room. In the doorway, though, he turned around again and walked back, coming to stand behind Len again.

“Oh, dear. Nearly forgot this.” Len felt a pressure on the dildo, and then Master stepped back and smirked at Len.

“Goodnight, love.” And then he walked out, leaving Len to gasp in surprise and despair.

The dildo was vibrating.

It was vibrating against the very sensitive back of Len’s thighs, leaving him overstimulated in a matter of moments with how harsh it was pressing into the skin of his thighs, and Len knew that he had no way of escaping it. He was essentially tied to it, after all, with no way of trying to wriggle his way out of it.

His head dropped down, and soon his arms gave way as well, leaving him prostrate on the cage floor with his ass sticking up obscenely, and he was sure he must be twitching and wriggling in futile attempts to get away from the buzzing vibrator that was sending shocks of sensation through his thighs, leaving him on edge and fuzzy and so very squirmy.

He was sure it wasn’t long before he started crying, though it felt like at least a lifetime had passed in which all that existed for him was the way the vibrator made his skin tingle and send up shivers all throughout his body. The incessant way it pushed tremors through his thighs was almost hurting him, and Len sobbed again, willing time to pass faster, so Master might return to him and release him from this torture.

For a moment, a little beep in the corner caught his attention, and he saw a camera mounted on the side table, pointed directly at him. Somehow, the thought that Master might be watching him suffering from the bedroom only made it worse, and Len struggled, trying to get out of his bonds. But Master’s knots held him exactly where he was, and not even the vibrator moved a bit, but happily continued to drive Len insane.

A few seconds or ten hours later, Len gave up on fighting, knowing that it wouldn’t work and that the only option he had was to endure it, to take what Master was giving him and to suffer for Master so that Master might be pleased with him in the end.

He knew that he’d cried out all his tears already, and yet he was still sobbing, crying even though it was little more than dry whimpers at this point, and he looked at the camera from time to time, as if giving it begging looks would bring Master to him closer again, and bring upon the release from this torture earlier.

After a while, his gaze fell upon the button next to his hand, the one that Master had placed there, directly within reach of him. If he pressed the button, it would be over. If he pressed the button, Master would come and release him from this and take him in his arms and give him cuddles and kisses. Master would never begrudge him using his safeword, Len knew that. He would praise Len all the same and tell him how good he was and how proud he was of him.

But Len . . . Len would know that he hadn’t been able to go as far as Master had wanted him to go. He’d be happy to curl up in Master’s arms and soak up the praise, . . . but he’d still know that he hadn’t fully pushed himself to fulfill his Master’s wishes. He knew he’d be happier in the end if he pushed through, if he waited for his Master to come to him of his own volition, and hopefully, he would be praised for doing so well and for lasting through the night . . . 

His hand curled around the little remote, and yet he refused to press the button, even as the vibrations traveling through his overstimulated skin felt painful and his head was buzzing with the vibrations that were running through him, with the need to get away, to get out, even as his eyes were burning from all his tears being cried out, and his face felt swollen and everything was stuffy and his head felt like it was twice the size it usually was.

But he held on . . . and on . . . and on . . . He could do it. He could be a good boy for Master, could make him proud, could earn the love he was given . . . he was a good boy for Master . . . Master’s good boy . . . so good . . . so good . . . so good . . . 

When Master came back into the living room, Len was barely lucid, but he started sobbing again immediately and tried to crawl to Master, away from the pain in his thighs.

“Good morning, darling,” Master greeted him, but instead of opening the cage door, he went to the back first, and Len fell forward with a sob as the ropes around his hips were released. Somehow, with the torture of the painful vibrations gone, he found himself able to cry again, with how tired he was and how everything was aching and how sensitive his thighs were and how his knees were aching from kneeling on the ground all night.

Master made quick work of the knots around his knees as well, and only then opened the cage door.

“There you go, love. Such a good boy, my Len. You did so well, so very well. I know how painful that was for you, but you did so well, I’m so proud of you.” He crouched in front of the cage and held out his hand for Len, who still lay there, unmoving.

“Can you come out, darling?” Master asked him as he gently stroked Len’s cheek where he lay. Len turned his head to nuzzle into Master’s hand, then pushed himself up to crawl out of the cage. He got about halfway up before his arms gave out and he fell back down, a pathetic whimper escaping him.

“Oh, dear . . . I’ve really worn you out now, haven’t I?”

Len just sniffled at that, too tired to even try to push himself up again. He wondered if maybe Master would let him sleep like that, let him get some strength back before he crawled out and faced what Master had in store for him next.

“Hm, alright, let’s do this differently, then,” Master murmured and pulled back. Len had no time to mourn the loss of Master’s hands on him before they appeared again on the outside of the cage, undoing a few hooks and disassembling the cage enough so he could open the roof and lower the sides.

“There we go,” he murmured, and then his hands were back on Len, and Len felt himself being lifted into the safety of Master’s arms. He immediately wrapped his own weak arms around Master and whimpered at the pressure to his sensitive thighs as Master held him there. He closed his eyes, hoping that he could just sleep here, safe in his Master’s arms.

“I think someone needs a nap, huh?” Master whispered above him, and then Len felt the swaying that indicated Master was walking. He was walking for much longer than it should have taken him to take Len to the sofa, and when he did lay Len down, it was on soft sheets on what felt like a—mattress.

Len’s eyes opened at that, searching Master’s eyes questioningly. He wasn’t allowed in Master’s bed, after all!

“No, no, it’s alright, darling. You were so good for me, so very good, and you’re so tired. Let’s take a nap together, right here, in the bed.”

Master climbed into the bed as well as he spoke and pulled the blanket over both of them before pulling Len into his arms. Len weakly wrapped his own arms around Master and closed his eyes, too tired to even thank Master for letting him be in the bed before passing out, dead to the world now that he was safe and snuggled up in Master’s arms, his favourite place in the whole world.

When he woke again, Master was still holding him and stroking his hair, seemingly content to just lay there forever, waiting for Len to wake up again. Len blinked and pulled back just enough to be able to look at Master.

“Good morning, darling,” Master greeted him and then kissed his forehead. “Are you feeling a little better?”

Len nodded. Even though his thighs felt like they had been chafed almost to the point of bleeding, and his head was pounding, and he felt like he hadn’t slept in a week despite just taking a nap, he did feel better. Master sat up then and reached for the nightstand, and when he turned back to Len, he was holding a big cup of water with a straw in it.

Len struggled to sit up, only now noticing that together with the regular blanket, Master had covered him in the new weighted blanket as well. It was so comfortable . . . Len wanted nothing more than to snuggle right back into it and sleep for another hour or two.

He obediently took the cup and was very glad when Master helped stabilize it as he drank, only realising now just how much he needed to hydrate after a night of crying and feeling so lost and lonely. Master let him drink his fill and then put the cup back on the nightstand and helped Len to lay down again. Immediately, Len snuggled back into Master, hoping that maybe he would let him sleep just for another few minutes . . . 

Master’s phone chimed then, and Master rolled back to grab it from the nightstand to quickly check it.

“Len, darling, do you know what day is today?” he asked then, turning back to Len. Len just shook his head. He’d given up on days and hours and weeks a while ago; they weren’t important anymore.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll tell you what today is, yeah?” Len nodded, though he couldn’t be less interested at the moment. He just wanted to catch some more sleep . . . 

“It’s our last day here, love. So Mick has driven all the way out here, and he’s here now, in front of the door. Is it okay if I let him in so he can join in on the snuggles? We can take a nap with him if you want.”

“Mick?” Len asked, then nodded. He wanted Mick. Mick was good. Mick gave very nice cuddles, just like Master.

“Alright, darling. I’ll be back in just a second, okay?”

Before Len had time to panic that he was going to be alone for a moment, there was a flash of lightning, and another one, and then Master was standing in the bedroom again . . . with Mick.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be a bit of a tease and delay the posting of the last chapter from Saturday to Monday for personal reasons. In any case though, it is written and it is coming for sure!


	15. Sweet. Gentle. Caring.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, Len gets what he deserves.

“Hey, boss,” Mick greeted him and knelt on the bed on his hands and knees so he could lean down to kiss Len’s forehead. “I heard you need cuddles and a nap?”

Len just nodded, feeling himself pout as he reached out for both of them. Quickly, both Master and Mick got rid of their clothes and crawled into the bed with him, Master so he could take Len into his arms again just like before, and Mick snuggling up behind him, his arms wrapped around Len’s middle.

“He’s still deep under,” Len heard Master say as the weighted blanket was being tugged up around his shoulders. “And be careful with the back of his thighs, please. They are quite sensitive and tender at the moment.”

“Will do,” Mick murmured, and Len felt his lips against the back of his head. “Go to sleep, Lenny. We got you.”

Len hummed and snuggled closer into Master, letting one of his hands slide down so he could hold onto the arm Mick had placed around his waist, so he wouldn’t disappear while he slept. And just like before, it didn’t take long at all for Len to doze off, exhaustion taking a toll on him after the week he’d just had.

When he next woke, he could feel the sun shine on his face through the window, and he was warm and comfortable and snuggled safely between two warm bodies, and the weighted blanket was pushing him down just enough that it was perfect and he never wanted to leave this space. He kept his eyes closed and listened to Master and Mick talk, in hushed, quiet voices so they wouldn’t disturb Len. They were so thoughtful . . . Len was the luckiest man in the world, really.

“So . . . you’re saying you like being a Dom because it . . . takes control away?” Mick sounded a bit incredulous, and Len relished the way Master’s chest vibrated a little with a held-back laugh.

“Something like that, yeah. It’s like . . . Len gives me all the power, but he has all the control. He sets the boundaries, he tells me when things need to slow down or stop; anything I can do with the power he gives me, he can control because I’ll never do something with it that he doesn’t want. We’ll discuss things upfront, and then his boundaries dictate what I can do with the power he gives me. It’s funny, most submissive people like the idea of giving up control, of handing it all over to the dominant person and not needing to care about a thing, while really, they are still so much in control . . . they just choose not to act upon it in that moment. And really, that’s so powerful. There’s nothing more powerful than having someone who chooses to submit to you, who finds you worthy of being handed control over their lives, to have their wellbeing in your hand, to be in charge of everything they are for a while . . . It’s a rush, I tell you. I know it’s not for everyone, but for me it’s . . . there’s nothing quite like it. Every time Len goes to his knees for me, I’m so grateful again . . . so grateful that he chooses me as the person he hands control to, the person he allows to have power over him. I’m a very lucky man.”

There was a bit of silence, and then Mick’s lips were on Len’s head in a soft and gentle kiss. “The way you describe it . . . sounds much better than it just . . . being about the chains and the beating.”

“For me, it’s not about the chains and the beating at all, those are just tools to visualize what is happening inside our heads. It’s sometimes easier to stay in a headspace with palpable hints . . . a collar, ropes, you name it. But really, they are all just . . . décor. None of it is needed. All that’s needed is two adults who have enough trust in each other to brave a situation like that.”

“Len’s lucky to have you, Doll,” Mick murmured, and Len had to agree with him. The way Barry saw the BDSM side of their relationship was nothing new to him, but it still warmed his heart, to hear him explain it to Mick like this. Master was always like this . . . always so. Gentle. Sweet. Caring.

“I’m lucky to have him, really,” Master murmured and pressed a kiss to Len’s head right about where Mick had placed it just moments ago, then stilled. “I think someone’s back with us . . . Hey love, how are you doing?”

Len blinked his eyes open and looked at Master’s smiling face, frowning at the sun that was blinding him, so he shuffled down enough that Master was blocking out the sun for him, and it was much better. He hummed contently and nuzzled into Master’s chest, not quite willing to verbally acknowledge his being awake yet.

And Master, apparently sensing this, let him drift for a bit longer while he chatted with Mick about the con Mick had been at, presenting his newest novel.

After a while, though, he was starting to feel a bit too warm, and his mouth was still a lot too dry, so he gently tugged on Master’s arm to get his attention.

“Can I . . . water, please?” he asked, and let Mick and Master wrangle him upright so Master could hand him the cup again, which he drained this time, immediately feeling better.

“Good boy. How about breakfast? Are you hungry?” Master asked him, and as if on cue, Len’s stomach grumbled. He flushed and looked to the side, while Master and Mick just laughed good-naturedly.

“Okay, how about this. I’ll go to the living room and do a bit of quick clean-up so our stuff is put to one side, and then one of us cooks breakfast while the other cuddles with you on the sofa?”

Len nodded at that but frowned a bit as he stared outside at the sun.

“. . . Time is it?”

“It’s about eleven now. It was only around five when I got you into bed, and Mick arrived at eight,” Master explained, and Len nodded. That made sense . . . somehow. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, then winced as his tender thighs complained about being moved around.

Mick lifted the blanket behind him, presumably to check what had Len wincing, and then dropped it again. “What did you do to him, Doll? Poor guy’s thighs are all red . . .”

“Well, I don’t kiss and tell, so,” Master hummed and then leaned over to kiss first Mick and then Len on the lips. “You can come to the living room in a couple of minutes, I won’t take long,” he promised, and then he was gone, leaving Len with just Mick for company.

“Hey, boss . . . how you doin’?” Mick asked him after a few moments of silence, and Len gave him a tired smile before slumping over into Mick’s strong chest.

“Good,” he murmured, allowing himself to be held by his husband. “Tired. Sore. Happy.”

A chuckle from Mick made him look up, an eyebrow raised. “Tired, sore, happy is a good after-sex expression . . . but I know you didn’t get any, but still sounds good.”

“I’ll have you know we even played with a dildo,” Len protested. He’d gotten a lot from Barry in the past week, . . . just no sex, but he hadn’t wanted that anyway.

“Yeah? Fancy.” And with that, Len found himself lifted up in Mick’s arms and carried out of the bedroom, back into the living room. They sat down on the sofa, and Len looked around. There was no trace anymore of the things that Barry had kept in the living room all week, apart from a blanket-covered neat pile in the corner. Barry himself was just walking out of the kitchen with a smile on his face.

“Pancakes are already cooking, so we can have breakfast soon,” he explained, waving around with a spatula as if to underline what he was saying. He smiled at the two of them, and Len gave him a smile back before nuzzling into Mick’s neck and hiding his face there, not quite ready to face the world yet. Mick just laughed and wrapped his arms around Len, holding him close and safe and comfortable.

“So . . . what’s the plan for today?”

“There’s not really a plan,” Barry replied, then paused as he stepped back into the kitchen, supposedly to do something to the pancakes.“ Letting Lenny slowly surface, giving him all the cuddles and snuggles and whatever else he wants,” He came to sit next to Len and started gently rubbing his back. “What do you want to do today, darling?”

Len pouted a bit into Mick’s neck, then shrugged. “Cuddles?” he asked, causing both of his partners to chuckle.

“Cuddles it is, then. And I don’t know, maybe we can take a walk in the afternoon or evening or so? We’ll see how we’re doing by then. Or did you have something in mind, Mick?”

“Nah, I just came here so I could be with you again . . . didn’t see you for long enough the past week. Plus cuddles. So . . . sounds good to me.”

By the time Barry was done with cooking the pancakes, Len had been wrangled into some underwear and an old, comfy T-shirt by Mick, and he was sitting up again, slowly starting to feel a bit more like himself again.

Barry sat on his free side and handed out the plates with pancakes, but as Len took his, his hands shook so much he nearly dropped it. He knew it wasn’t all that heavy, but he was still tired and exhausted and not very functioning at all.

“Can you feed me?” He looked at Barry, and of course, Barry nodded. He took a moment to put Len’s stack of pancakes on his own plate as well, then proceeded to feed both himself and Len, taking care not to spill any syrup on the sofa.

A bit later, with some carbs and sugar in his system and after two more glasses of water, Len felt himself perk up a little more, but still, all he wanted to do was cuddle. And so they did, with Mick and Barry continuing to sandwich Len between them so he was always held and cradled and it was so warm and comfortable . . . Len could take another nap like this. But he resisted, instead chiming in on the lighthearted chatter that Barry and Mick were exchanging.

After a while of that, though, things got to be a bit much somehow. Suddenly, Barry’s care felt overbearing, and his warm, safe cocoon of snuggles became too hot, suddenly felt restrictive. He pushed himself up and climbed from the sofa, stretching, and relishing in the fact that he could move however he wanted to.

“I’m going to step outside for a bit,” he murmured and pointed at the balcony door, then snatched up his phone on the way there. He could feel Barry’s puzzled gaze following him but didn’t look back. Suddenly, he needed to be alone for a bit.

It was cool outside, but the soft wind felt amazing on Len’s skin, and he relished in the way there were goosebumps on his legs and how the wind tugged on his shirt. He leaned against the railing and turned on his phone, then just stood there and enjoyed the view while it started.

Once he’d checked all his notifications but pointedly ignored any work emails, he quickly texted Lisa, saying that he’d had a great week and was spending the day with Mick and Barry still before they’d come back, but that he was available again. Lisa, who knew full-well how Len thought about sex, sent him an eggplant emoji for his troubles.

Len sent her a raised middle finger in return.

He’d been on the balcony for about ten minutes before the door to the living room opened and Mick stepped out.

“Just checkin’ how you’re doing,” he grumbled and stood beside Len, leaning against the railing just like Len did.

“Yeah . . . good. Just needed to, I don’t know, needed to be alone for a moment, find myself as a person again? That sounds weird, but . . . yeah. All I did, all I thought the past week was related to Barry, I needed a few moments to be . . . just Len again, you know? Just . . . yeah.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Mick shrugged, then looked at him sharply. “But the week was good?”

There was an underlying thread of worry there, and Len knew that for someone on the outside of Barry’s and his relationship, it wasn’t always easy to see whether Barry had overstepped his boundaries. But he shook his head and placed his hand on Mick’s. “The week was amazing. I’m exhausted and need like two days of sleep, but . . . it was great.” He sighed, not sure how to put into words how he felt about this, how much Barry meant to him.

“He’s a keeper, ain’t he?”

Sometimes, Len forgot for a moment that the man he’d been married to for twenty-five years not only knew him inside out but could also read him better than an open book he’d written himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, Mick, he is.”

“The forever kind?” Mick asked him and turned around, so his back was against the railing now, allowing him to study Len’s face in the way he tended to when he wanted to get to the bottom of things.

Len swallowed and looked away as if hiding his face from Mick would hide his emotions from him. “Yeah . . . yeah, the forever kind.”

“Why not make it official, then?”

“Mick, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m already married.” He turned around again, facing Mick again. But instead of looking taken aback, Mick just smiled at him.

“Yeah, I noticed. There are plenty of officiants who’ll do unconventional weddings, though. Poly ones as well. Won’t be legal, but it’ll still be a marriage. If that’s what we want.”

“Who’s getting married?” Barry asked, poking his head out of the door. “Wanted to ask what you guys want for lunch?”

Len opened his mouth, ready to change the subject, but Mick beat him to it, simply grinning at Barry’s. “You’re getting married. Hopefully. To us.”

That stunned Barry into silence for a moment, and then he stepped out on the balcony with them, blinking into the sun for a moment.

“I hope you didn’t mean that as a serious proposal. You know I’m a very romantic person, Mick. I want the whole deal. Candlelight dinner, flowers, proposal down on one knee, a ring . . . I’m not a proposal-in-underwear-on-a-balcony kind of guy.”

“But then you’ll say yes?” Len asked, and Barry looked at him with pure mirth in his eyes.

“Well, I didn’t say no now, did I?”

He then stepped forward and grabbed first Len and then Mick to pull them in for a kiss. “But . . . let’s talk about that first, yeah? I know it sounds romantic and all but . . . let’s talk first about how that would work out, please? Living situation, finances, all that shit . . . I want to know we’re on the same page before we get married.”

Len nodded, but couldn’t hold back a smile, which Barry returned before leaning in for a longer kiss this time.

“Now, you guys. What do you want for lunch?”

“Do you still have leftovers from that Indian food you made?” Len asked and watched Mick’s eyes get bigger as he heard that.

“You made Indian for Lenny? I want some too.”

“That’s settled then, I’ll go heat it up,” Barry hummed, then winked at them both and disappeared back into the living room.

There was a minute or two of silence, and then Len burst out laughing.

“I can’t believe you proposed to him . . . in your underwear. On the balcony.”

“Well, he said yes, didn’t he?” Mick volleyed back, and Len had to incline his head in agreement.

“As good as, yeah. So . . . are we getting a bigger closet? Because Barry needs to put his stuff somewhere when he moves in with us.”

  
  


***

  
  


After dinner, they did take a walk around the area their holiday apartment had been in, and Len was pretty sure that Barry had not chosen this apartment because of its amazing location or any touristy qualities at all. After being asked as much, Barry just chuckled.

“Nah. It had good soundproofing ratings.”

Well, that explained a lot, then.

“Oh gosh, I don’t even want to know,” Mick chuckled, dramatically covering his ears. Len stopped walking in the middle of the street so he could look around to see that they weren’t being watched—not that that mattered much, anymore—and then he pulled Mick into a kiss. “So we won’t tell you then,” he promised and continued to hold hands with his husband for the rest of the walk.

The evening was spent cuddled on the couch, and somehow Barry had managed to bake some of his divine shortbread cookies with cranberries and pistachios that Len adored so much, and when he brought them out, Len immediately made grabby hands for them, taking the whole plate from Barry and depositing it in his lap. He’d share with his partners, but all the calories he’d burnt in the past week and the good submissive boy he’d been surely meant that he was now allowed to have control of the amazing melt-in-your-mouth sugary, buttery, sent-you-straight-to-heaven-experience that was Barry’s cookies. Barry chuckled as he handed the plate over and pressed a kiss to Len’s forehead. “You know, with that blue weighted blanket around you, making grabby hands for cookies . . . you’re a veritable cookie monster.”

Len didn’t find anything bad in that, so he just grinned and shrugged it off, and gave himself over to the bliss that was the first still-warm-from-the-oven cookie.

Mick insisted they watch some clips that had been taken on the con he’d been at, and they all snickered at some of the fans, screeching and screaming for Rebecca Silver and looking at Mick with awe in their eyes when they got to take a picture of him, and thanking him profusely for signing their copy of his books.

“You like it,” Barry remarked halfway through, and Mick’s only response was to take another sip from his beer bottle.

“You like it when the love of your fans is so palpable. You love to talk to them about your books, about what made you write the characters the way they are. You like it when they accept you as you are, gloves and leather jacket and grumpy face, even though they might have expected a woman with an updo and stiletto heels.”

Mick just shrugged and handed Barry his beer in acknowledgement of the truth of his statement. Barry took a sip, pulled a face, and handed it back. Len just chuckled. He loved it when Mick rewarded Barry by giving him a sip of his beer, a beverage that Barry couldn’t stand. And yet, he always took a sip of it, and just like now, he always flicked Mick on the nose afterwards.

When they were cuddled up in bed later, Len couldn’t help but feel sad that their time here was drawing to an end. After cookies and beer and watching Mick be fawned over, he and Barry had brought all their toys and equipment down to the car already, so they wouldn’t need to load up in the morning. The fridge was already empty save for the things they would need for breakfast, and all but the last change of clothes was already stored in their suitcases again, which were just waiting for their pyjamas to be tossed in in the morning before they left.

Len watched Mick’s face, already relaxed with sleep and lax even though his arms were tightly wrapped around Len as if he was afraid Len would try to leave during the night. He kissed his husband’s nose and then turned around to face Barry, who was watching him sleepily. Len could tell that he was on the edge of sleep already, and he could feel sleep pulling on himself as well. He snuggled in closer, his own arms wrapping around Barry after pulling the duvet and the weighted blanket higher up, relishing in the gentle weight that was pressing him down so comfortably.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, something floated to the top of his mind, and he turned his head just enough to nose at the fluff of the weighted blanket before settling down again.

“Barry?”

“Yeah, darling?” Barry sounded sleepy, slurring a bit, and Len had never heard a more adorable sound.

“Thank you for the new aftercare blanket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with these idiots until the end!
> 
> Though who knows if it is the end, I have been having Sequel Ideas....
> 
> Stay tuned for that, if you want to!


End file.
